Chain of Love
by PJ in NH
Summary: [P/T] Tom and B'Elanna meet in the AQ, while Tom is with the Maquis and his Maquis ship is in port for repairs. Before Tom has to leave to return to the fighting, he presents B'Elanna with a gift or two--one of the gifts is a surprise--even to him.
1. Prologue

Title: Chain of Love   
Contact: kelhapam@worldpath.net   
Series: VOY   
Rating: R   
Code: P/T   
Part: 1/18 NEW   
Date: November 2000  
  
Summary: An AU story inspired by the song "Brandy" by Looking  
Glass. Tom and B'Elanna meet in the AQ, while Tom is with the  
Maquis and his Maquis ship is in port for repairs. Before Tom  
has to leave to return to the fighting, he presents B'Elanna with  
a gift or two--one of the gifts is a surprise--even to him.  
  
Explanation: Most of this story takes place pre-Voyager. Note,  
while some scenes have been inspired from canon, this is not to  
say that these scenes conform to canon one hundred percent. Some  
of the facts of this story were borrowed from Jeri Taylor's  
Pathways.  
  
Disclaimer: Voyager owns all the characters, etc., I am just  
using the characters for a little fun and relaxation.  
  
Note of Appreciation. Special thanks to my beta readers: P.J.  
Sutherland and Marianne, and especially Tracy S. who has held my  
hand through the writing of this story.  
Email: kelhapam@worldpath.net  
  
Posting: OK to ASC. Please notify me if you post anywhere  
else.  
  
  
PROLOGUE   
  
~~~~Brandy wears a braided chain   
~~~~Made of finest silver from the north of Spain   
~~~~A locket that bears the name   
~~~~Of a man that Brandy loved.  
  
In the present, in the Delta Quadrant...  
  
Entering Sickbay quietly, Tom was thankful that his wife and his  
brand new baby girl were resting comfortably. Just a few short  
hours ago, B'Elanna had been swearing at him using every  
Federation Standard and Klingon curse she knew. Even Tom had  
learned a few new epithets during the course of her labor, but it  
had been worth it, as had suffering crushed bones, the result of  
her clutching his hand during the last contraction. He wondered  
if B'Elanna's father experienced similar injuries during her  
birth. Being that B'Elanna's mother was a full-blooded Klingon,  
it's a wonder he's still alive, Tom realized. The proud new  
father moved toward his family. He smiled down fondly at B'Elanna  
who rested peacefully on the biobed, and at the sleeping child in  
the bassinette next to her mother's bed.  
  
  
It had taken a lot of luck and fate to bring them to this point,  
Tom mused. Closing his eyes he offered up a silent prayer to  
whatever deity brought them together and blessed their union with  
this healthy child. Opening his eyes a few minutes later, he  
brushed away a few unshed tears of happiness, before moving to  
place a bouquet of yellow roses on the table next to the biobed.   
It was then he caught sight of the glint of silver that came from  
B'Elanna's necklace. Tom had almost forgot the Doctor insisted  
B'Elanna remove the silver locket that always hung around her  
neck; but he was sure the EMH would never forget the choice words  
his wife used to express her unwillingness to comply with his  
request.  
  
Picking up the necklace, he wove the braided chain around the  
long fingers of his left hand while he held the oval locket with  
his right.  
  
"Hey," a tired voice greeted him. Tom looked down to see that  
B'Elanna had awakened.  
  
"Did you have a good rest?" he asked softly so not to disturb his  
daughter. "Mmmmm. I had a dream," she whispered, a little smile  
lit her face.  
  
Tom grinned. "Tell me about it."  
  
She patted the bed, inviting him to sit down beside her. "It was  
about the necklace," she told him. "I dreamt about when you gave  
it to me, about how we got together." B'Elanna turned toward the  
bassinette and placing a loving hand on her daughter's behind  
and gave it a little pat. "I want her to know our story, Tom.   
When she grows up, I want us to tell her everything."  
  
"Everything?"  
  
B'Elanna lips curled upwards. "Well, *almost* everything."  
  
* * * * * End Prologue * * * * * *  
  
Click here to transport to Chapter 1 - Palmat 


	2. Palmat

CHAPTER 1 - PALMAT  
  
~~~~He came on a summer's day   
~~~~Bringing gifts from far away   
~~~~But he made it clear he couldn't stay   
~~~~No harbor was his home  
  
Before the Delta Quadrant...  
  
Surveying his surroundings, the tall, lanky pilot brushed back  
the dark blond hair from his forehead. Damn, it was hot but he  
would have gone insane if he stayed in that sardine can the  
Maquis called a ship much longer. Even if the ship had been of a  
superior design with a spacious interior like Picard's  
Enterprise, just being cooped up with other people on it for the  
last several weeks was reason enough to split for a while. He  
knew, at best, his crewmates tolerated his presence. If he  
wasn't such a damn good pilot, he would have been dropped off on  
the nearest space station or planet weeks ago--that is if someone  
didn't slit his throat before then.   
  
Shielding his eyes from the perpetual glare of Palmat's twin  
suns, Tom Paris looked cynically around this port of call that  
would be he and his crewmates' new home for the next few weeks.   
The planet of Palmat, or its port city of Malac, would hardly be  
what anyone's idea of a prime tourist attraction--or any type of  
attraction at all--Tom concluded, unless they were looking for  
the seedy side of space. It served a dual purpose though,  
providing them what they needed--a safe haven until the ship was  
space-worthy again and rest for her weary crew.   
  
The last few weeks had consisted of numerous skirmishes with the  
Cardassians and even a few run-ins with Starfleet. The Maquis  
ship "Liberty" had taken several hits, and was in desperate need  
of repair.   
  
Strolling down one of Malac's streets, Paris made note of the  
people that inhabited this hell hole. The citizens of the city  
looked like all the dregs of the universe had decided to make  
this their home. Even the dirty children that scampered through  
the even dirtier streets, looked any innocence they might have  
possessed had been ripped away. That was a shame, Tom thought,  
children shouldn't be subjected to the squalor that he saw.  
  
He followed a pair of ragamuffins with his eyes as they played a  
curious game of touched-you-last. They darted back and forth  
across the street, heedless of any traffic or people that might  
collide with them.   
  
Finally, outside one of the many dreary bars that lined the  
streets of the town, the children crashed into a trio of rough  
hewn men who had stopped to talk. The men yelled at them and  
then pushed the youngsters away so they could continue their  
conversation. Shortly afterwards, the men, looking startled,  
took off down the road in the same direction that children had  
traveled, and Tom laughed. Those children were obviously expert  
pickpockets and had plucked their elders dry, Tom realized.   
  
Licking his parched lips, Paris realized that he too was in need  
of some liquid refreshment, but not here he decided. It was too  
close to the ship--too much of a chance to run into one of the  
other members of the *noble* Maquis. He'd wait, until he found  
just the right bar, something a little out of the way, some place  
that sported the right kind of clientele--women--and if he was  
lucky, good looking and willing women.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Turning a corner in what passed for a street, Tom again licked  
his dry lips. A short stone's throw from his position, he saw  
what he was looking for. A small establishment, nestled beside a  
large pillar of stone approximately two kilometers from the  
Liberty. The building itself was made of some type of masonry.   
White paint had been splashed on the exterior in a haphazard  
fashion, what looked like years ago, and the metal roof was  
thoroughly rusted. But what intrigued the pilot the most, was  
the pair of women that he saw enter the bar. Both, while not  
what he would consider beautiful, had all their curves in *all*  
the right places. They'd do, he decided. It had been a while  
since he had been in intimate contact with a member of the female  
gender, and if the hardening below his belt was any indication,  
it had been much too long.   
  
Trying to maintain his cool, even though he was sweltering, he  
entered the bar.   
  
When he stepped through the entryway, Tom was temporarily blinded  
by the abrupt change from the brightness outside to the darkness  
within. His sense of smell was assaulted by the aroma of alcohol  
and cheap perfume intermingled with spicy incense. It was just  
like most bars he had frequented since he had been cashiered out  
of Starfleet, he thought. Dark, dank, and a good place to go to  
forget your problems--at least for a while. In other words, just  
what he was looking for.  
  
After his eyes adjusted, he saw that most of the bar was  
illuminated by a pale blue light that emanated from several  
vertical glowing tubes of varying heights that were placed  
randomly around the main seating area. The patrons--what few  
there were--were clustered in groups of twos or threes around  
small oval tables. The two women that Tom had followed in wasted  
no time and had already selected a pair of men...or perhaps the  
men selected them. Even in the dim light, Tom Paris could tell  
that the ladies weren't as young as he had originally thought.   
  
If it wasn't for the raging thirst tearing at his throat, he  
would have left in search of a more attractive tavern, instead he  
made his way around several tables toward the back of the room  
where the bar itself was situated. He neared the bar, which was  
constructed of a long, thick plank of gray stone supported by a  
heavy, black metal base. Two men who were already there, perched  
on a pair of stools like vultures, looked up at Tom.   
  
The older of the two sneered at Paris through acrid pulls of  
smoke that spewed out of a pipe clenched between his yellowing  
teeth. Not about to trespass on their territory, the pilot chose  
a stool at the other end of the bar.   
  
Satisfied that they would not be bothered by the stranger, the  
men turned their attention away from him and resumed their  
conversation.  
  
Tom shrugged. It would have been a pleasure to strike up a  
conversation with someone outside of the Liberty's crew--even  
those men. It would be a nice change of pace to talk to someone  
who would not prejudge him and think that they knew him based  
solely on a few well-publicized facts. Not that the facts  
necessarily lied--the crash *was* due to pilot error. *His*  
pilot error had caused the crash of that shuttle on Caldik  
Prime--but it would have been nice to put it behind him for a  
little while, to forget but for a moment he his actions had  
killed three people.  
  
Turning towards the bar itself, Tom noticed a dark head just  
below the top of the counter--the person seemed to be crouching  
and mumbling to himself. Paris waited a little while, then  
cleared his parched throat trying to attract some attention, but  
it didn't work. Whoever it was behind the bar seemed to be very  
absorbed with his task. Finally, the pilot leaned over the bar  
and tapped the person on the head.  
  
"Do you think I could get some service?" he asked.  
  
The two men that were seated at the end of the bar quickly  
abandoned their posts fleeing toward the back of the room just  
before the dark head snapped upward and Tom fell back almost  
toppling off his seat. It wasn't a man, he discovered, but a  
woman--a vibrant but enraged woman. Her dark mahogany-colored  
hair hung to her shoulders and even in the dim light he could  
make out the ripples that adorned her forehead. Instantly she  
intrigued him.   
  
"Do I *look* like a barkeep?" she snarled.  
  
"I--I--don't know," Tom Paris stammered. "I guess not?"  
  
"Damned right, I'm not!"  
  
"Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you."  
  
The woman slowly expelled a breath she wasn't aware she was  
holding.  
  
Then she looked into the sky blue eyes of the man and made note  
of his aristocratic features and blondish hair. Not bad, she  
thought. {What is someone like you doing here in this arm pit of  
the universe?} She also noticed that the redness of the man's  
skin was not a natural state--the twin sun's of Palmat had  
toasted another person.  
  
"Look, I'm trying to repair the refrigerant coils, but I'm not  
having much success. Sorry if I snapped," she admitted. She  
pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over her eyes. Tom  
could tell that her anger was barely contained. "What is it  
you're looking for, drink or company?"  
  
Paris was mesmerized by her raw beauty, tawny skin, full lips,  
and her refreshing bluntness. He had the nagging feeling that  
somewhere, somehow, they had met before.  
  
"Make up your mind!" she snarled when Tom didn't reply  
immediately. "I'm not the bartender--I have work of my own to  
do. Do you want booze or someone to warm your bed?" She jerked  
her head in the direction of the women Tom had followed in.   
"Hurry up, I don't have all day."  
  
"Um...I'll have a Bolian beer, if you have it." Tom replied. He  
fished out a few credits from his money pouch that hung around  
his neck and tossed it on the bar.  
  
She nodded once and reached under the counter selecting a mug.   
Topping the mug off from one of the taps, she slid the mug across  
the bar toward the man.   
  
"Thanks...keep the change." Tom gratefully picked up the mug and  
drained half of its cool contents. Placing the mug again back on  
the bar, he wiped his mouth unceremoniously with his sleeve. "I  
can't believe how thirsty I am," he remarked.  
  
"It's the Twin Terrors," she noted.   
  
Tom looked at her perplexedly.   
  
"The pair of suns," she explained. "Makes this place one hot  
sonofabitch. I can see that you're already showing their  
effects." She paused a beat and then continued when he didn't  
seem to understand. "Your skin is all pink and red. You've  
developed one nasty sunburn."  
  
{Could brown eyes look any richer?} "Oh, yeah...my skin. I was  
in such a hurry to leave the ship that I didn't get a dermal  
protectorant. When I get back I'll have to have this taken care  
of...one of the curses of being fair skinned," he chuckled  
nervously. Tom couldn't remember the last time he felt this  
unsure of himself around a woman. "Got it from my father's side  
of the family. I guess you don't have that problem."  
  
"Ah...no. Along with this..." She touched her rippled forehead.  
"I got the complexion too."   
  
"Klingon?" Tom guessed.  
  
"Half."  
  
"The other half Human?"  
  
She nodded, but didn't seem too pleased. Paris couldn't tell if  
she wasn't pleased with the Human half or the Klingon half, or  
the fact that she was half and half period. It would be  
something for him to find out later. Later? Interesting. Would  
there even be a later?  
  
"Hey, I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself before, the name's  
Tom." Why risk mentioning the last name? Even out here the  
famous disgrace of the mighty Paris family might be known. He  
held out his hand to her in a gesture of friendship.  
  
She looked at it for a little while then wiped her right hand on  
her pants leg before she placed her hand in his and shook it  
firmly. "B'Elanna," she replied. She then released her grip and  
picked up one of the tools she'd been working with and adjusted a  
setting on it.   
  
{No pretense...no flattery...just a woman being herself...how  
rare.} "B'Elanna is a lovely name," Paris remarked. It was an  
old line he realized, but it was the truth.  
  
She ignored him; she had heard the same compliment before used in  
here when a man tried to pick up a woman for the evening.  
  
"How about forgetting the repair for a moment, and..." he pushed  
on and patted the seat next to him. "...join me for a little  
refreshment and some talk."  
  
"Can't, I promised Mroki that when she returned I'd have this  
pile of refuse repaired. She doesn't keep me around to small  
talk with the customers. That's their job." B'Elanna motioned  
with a flip of her hand toward the women in the back of the room.   
Tom turned to see not only the two women he had followed into the  
bar, but three more who had joined them--two brunettes and one  
striking blonde.  
  
"The 'company'?" Tom surmised.  
  
B'Elanna's head bobbed. "Mroki provides the 'best drink and  
company to ease the minds and souls of wayward travelers'." She  
had heard that line so many times, it nauseated her.  
  
"Mroki's slogan?"   
  
"Yeah, something like that. Makes her feel more like an  
entrepreneur, than just the owner of a bar with a few rooms for  
rent by the hour upstairs."  
  
"So one can purchase this company, if one has the money?" Of  
course one could, Tom wasn't stupid.  
  
"You got it." Damn, this man seemed interested in more than the  
drink. She, for reasons unknown, had hoped that he wasn't like  
all the rest that came in here. But she couldn't blame him if he  
found Mroki's girls of more interest than her.  
  
He turned his attentionfrom watching the other women back to  
B'Elanna. "What if I wanted to purchase *your* company?"   
  
Lightning quick, B'Elanna threw her tool down on the bartop and  
launched herself over the bar. Her intent was to choke the life  
out of the handsome man on the other side. Nothing he could have  
said could have surprised her or angered her more. Since she had  
arrived on Malac, no one had wanted to spend time in her company  
for very long, and she'd be damned if she'd ever sell her body  
like Mroki's other female employees did!   
  
"Pp'taQ! I'm NOT a whore! You think I'd lower myself to sleep  
with some..."  
  
Tom raised his hands in self defense, trying hard not to notice  
the sounds of giggling that had arisen from the back on the room.  
  
"Hey, I didn't mean *that* kind of company, B'Elanna. I just  
wanted to talk to you...just talk....honest."  
  
"Talk?" She relaxed slightly, wary of his intentions.  
  
"Yeah, is that so hard to believe?" Actually considering what he  
had been looking for when he had first selected this tavern, it  
was, he admitted to himself.  
  
"Why me?" she asked. B'Elanna was born suspicious and moved away  
from Paris, retreating back to her original position.  
  
Tom shrugged. "Why not?" He took a slow sip of his beer.  
  
"No one has ever come in here and wanted to talk with me."   
  
Tom looked puzzled. "No one?"  
  
B'Elanna noticed his look of confusion. "It's these." She  
slapped her forehead. "They think I'm cursed or something."  
  
"That's ridiculous."  
  
"The Palmat citizens don't think so. Most of them are very  
superstitious," B'Elanna explained. Picking up the tool she had  
thrown down, she focused her attention on the device embarrassed  
by the admission. She had often admitted to herself that perhaps  
she was cursed. It seemed that ever since she could remember her  
dual-heritage had gotten her into trouble.  
  
"That's their loss."  
  
B'Elanna looked up. He sounded sincere. "Thanks," she mumbled.  
  
"So if I pay this *fine establishment* for your time will you  
join me?" he asked. "I promise, just to talk."  
  
"Talk?" she questioned confirming his intentions.  
  
"Promise. Will you talk with a wayward traveler, if that  
traveler was willing to pay for your time? Would your boss allow  
that?"  
  
Damn it was tempting. Usually the only one that spoke to her was  
Mroki but it was usually just about business. Sometimes Trini,  
the nicest prostitute, would talk to her if she had the time and  
their off-schedules coincided but that didn't happen often. "If  
you let me finish this repair, then I'll join you over at that  
side table for my break--no charge," B'Elanna assured him and  
pointed to a table that was the most secluded in the room.  
  
"Of course. Take your time."  
  
Taking his half-empty (or maybe it was half-filled?) mug with  
him, Tom moved to the side table. From there he watched B'Elanna  
finish her repair. When the bartender returned, B'Elanna spke  
with him briefly, and taking two mugs of beer with her, she  
joined the pilot.  
  
"Thought you could use another. Takes at least two mugs to wash  
the dust from your throat," she stated setting one of the mugs  
down beside his now empty (or was it just a temporarily not-  
filled?) mug. "I can't stay for long, I only get fifteen  
minutes."  
  
Once an officer, and having been raised a gentleman, Tom  
instinctively got out of his seat and pulled out the chair on the  
other side of the table. He then motioned for B'Elanna to sit.   
  
B'Elanna looked embarrassed at first. Looking up at the women,  
Trini motioned with a flick of her hand for her to sit down, so  
she did. Tom pushed her chair in and then joined her. "Thanks  
for the beer. What do I owe you?"  
  
B'Elanna pulled her own mug towards her and sipped at it,  
relishing the coolness as it slid down her throat.   
"Nothing...*they* owe me." {Boy did they owe me!}  
  
"I appreciate it." Tom smiled. He still felt nervous. Maybe  
because he knew he had never met a woman quite like B'Elanna.   
  
Carefully studying the man before her, she took a longer draw on  
her beer. The man's blue eyes seemed to draw her in...willingly  
in. She could easily drown herself in their blue depths she  
realized...and that frightened her. Admitting this came as a  
shock, as not much ever scared her. Covering up her nervousness,  
she took another sip of the beer before she spoke. "So what  
brings you here to Malac?" she asked.  
  
Tom laughed lightly. "To tell you the whole story would take a  
long time. The short version is that my ship is in port for  
repairs."  
  
"Are you from that Maquis ship that docked this morning?"  
  
Tom's laughter ceased. "How do you know about that?"  
  
"Almost everything on Palmat may stink, but its communications  
system doesn't. The news that the Maquis brought a ship in for  
repair has spread all over Malac, and by this time tomorrow, most  
of the planet will know about it."  
  
"Palmat has an impressive grapevine," Tom admitted. "What else  
is being said?"  
  
B'Elanna shrugged nonchalantly. "Just that the ship has been  
involved in several battles with both the Cardies and the Feds."   
She looked up into the man's blue eyes gauging his reaction. He  
appeared to be unaffected by the news so she continued. "We've  
been told that the captain of your ship is very bold, and that  
the ship and the crew might not even have made it to Palmat if he  
hadn't been for some flashy pilot they have at the helm."  
  
Tom covered his reaction to this piece of news with another sip  
of beer before he spoke. "The pilot wasn't the only one  
responsible for our success. Everyone on the crew has a job to  
do."  
  
"But I heard that it was your pilot that was primarily  
responsible," B'Elanna pressed.  
  
"Mere rumor." Last thing he wanted, though he couldn't figure out  
exactly why it was so important to him, was for her to find out  
about his past.   
  
B'Elanna looked disappointed. Since news of the Liberty had  
reached Palmat, she had made a special effort to learn all she  
could about the noble Maquis and, in particular, the ship's  
talented helmsman. Rumor had it that he was a hot shot pilot,  
the son of some type of Federation nobility, who had been kicked  
out of Starfleet before having joined up with the Maquis rebels.   
He sounded like someone B'Elanna could relate to--someone who she  
might have something in common, seeing how she had also left the  
Academy and her family under less than ideal circumstances.  
  
Noticing her disappointment, Tom sought out a new subject that  
didn't include him. "Tell me about you, B'Elanna. Why do you  
make your home on Palmat?"  
  
"I'm not," B'Elanna replied. "My stay here is only temporary.   
I'm here only long enough to get my own ship operational. Then  
I'm leaving. I thought maybe I'd go to Ephitma, a little planet  
near Vulcan, I hear are in need of engineers."  
  
"Is that your trade? You're an engineer?"  
  
"Yeah, though fat lot of good that does me around here. Because  
of these," she motioned once again to her ridges, "Mroki was the  
only one who would hire me. She isn't as superstitious as most  
of the people around here."  
  
"How long have you been on Palmat?"   
  
"Almost five months in Earth time." B'Elanna explained.  
  
"Long time."  
  
"A lot longer than I had intended," she admitted.  
  
"How's your ship coming along? Tell me about her."  
  
"She isn't much. Just an old run-about that can barely achieve  
Warp 6, but I got her for a song. Actually, I won her in a bet."  
  
"What kinda of bet?" This news piqued Tom's interest. It  
sounded like something he would do.  
  
B'Elanna shrugged. "Some over-confident Ferengi bet that I  
couldn't drink a Bolian under the table. I did it and won, and  
wound up with a ship and one hell of a hangover in the morning,"  
she recalled with a sly smile. "Of course, there was a lot of  
incentive considering if I lost, I would have had to scour out  
the Ferengi's bar for six months."  
  
Tom roared with laughter. "I would have liked to have seen that  
Ferengi's face when he lost the bet."  
  
B'Elanna chuckled. "It was a sight that I'll treasure always."   
Her smile suddenly faded. "That is if I can get the piece of  
junk flight-worthy again."  
  
Tom took a sip of his cold beer before he replied. "Is there  
anything I can do?"  
  
"Thanks, but I can't do much until I get some new parts. Seems  
like I fix one thing and two more screw up. I'm determined to  
get it working though. I did it before, and I'll do it again,"  
she avowed. "Right now I'm saving up for a radiometric  
converter. Then I can start working on saving enough money to  
get some dilithium crystals for the ship's warp core.  
  
"Sounds like you have it all planned out?"   
  
"I hope so, but my original plan didn't involve being stuck on  
Palmat this long. Talk about depressing!. Not that the Klingon  
Homeworld was full of laughs!"  
  
Tom chuckled. B'Elanna was intriguing, like a fresh breeze on a  
hot dry day...much like it was outside right now he remembered.   
She seemed to have a habit of saying what she thought, not what  
she thought he wanted to hear.  
  
"I've never been to Qo'noS, is it that bad?" he asked taking  
another sip.  
  
"Bad enough when you're five. Everything seemed so loud and  
boisterous compared to where I lived on Kessik IV. For a while I  
thought my mother had planned on moving back to the Homeworld to  
be near her family. I was very relieved to find out that we had  
just come for a visit." B'Elanna stopped, her tongue was getting  
carried away and she was telling this stranger far more than she  
had intended to. Hell, she didn't even know him yet and she was  
telling him things she typically kept to herself! But he was so  
easy to talk to, like she knew him for a long time. "I'm sorry,  
I guess I got to talking and didn't know when to stop." She cast  
her eyes to the worn table.  
  
Tom reached across the table and placed his hand on her forearm  
and squeezed lightly. "Don't be sorry, I like hearing about you  
and your experiences as a child," he insisted.  
  
"I really don't think you came in here with the purpose of  
talking about someone's childhood."  
  
Tom laughed. "That's true. This wasn't what I originally had in  
mind."  
  
B'Elanna's heart sunk--she should have known this man would be  
like all the rest. He was just trying to placate her. He was  
just passing the time until something or someone more interesting  
caught his eye.  
  
"They go for thirty-three lumas an evening. I understand you  
won't regret it," she informed him, her voice devoid of all  
emotion. Raising her mug to her lips, she drained the contents  
and then slammed the empty mug back down on the table. "I'm told  
that they know all the tricks."  
  
"Excuse me?" Tom was puzzled at the change in topic.  
  
"Mroki's girls." B'Elanna tossed her head towards the back of the  
room. "I'm told that Alini--the blonde with the long hair--is   
best. All the men..."  
  
"B'ELANNA!" It's acting up again!" the bartender yelled  
interrupting her.  
  
If looks could kill, the bartender would have been dead--twice  
over--once by B'Elanna, the other by Tom. "I've got to go,"  
B'Elanna apologized. "My break ended ten minutes ago." She  
quickly collected the now empty mugs, and in a flash she was  
gone.  
  
"Strange woman," Tom murmured to himself. "I think I like her."  
  
* * * * * *  
  
B'Elanna returned to the third-floor room Mroki provided her as  
part of her wages. The room was very small with only enough  
space for a small bed and a trunk that was pushed up against one  
wall. A small, narrow vertical window provided the only source  
of outside light.   
  
Entering the room, the young half-Klingon first paused by the  
window to look down on the people below. She noted the street,  
which was so busy during the daytime, was quieting. The lights  
from the various businesses which hat lined the street were  
starting to wink out as the owners closed their establishments  
until the next day. With a heavy sigh she turned from the window  
and activated the overhead light. It illuminated a garishly  
colored room. Three walls were painted bright pink and the other  
wall and the ceiling were covered with mirrors--testament that  
this room wasn't always intended solely for employee habitation.  
B'Elanna hated the room, but it served the purpose.   
  
Kneeling in front of the trunk, she unlocked it and pushed opened  
the heavy lid. Inside B'Elanna had placed her personal  
possessions, which consisted of a few changes of clothes,  
toiletries, several technical data PADDs, and the last thing her  
father had given her before he had left--a gray and pink mottled  
stuffed targ, she had had named Tobey.  
  
She wasn't sure why she kept the toy when, even now, she was  
furious with Eduardo Torres for leaving her mother and herself  
when B'Elanna was just a little girl. Perhaps it was a  
connection to home? Perhaps it was a reminder that despite  
everything she still loved her papa? She never could come up  
with a conclusive answer to those questions, and had long since  
stopped trying.  
  
Pulling the targ out from the trunk, she embraced the well-loved  
toy giving Tobey a kiss on his furry head, and placed him on her  
bed. She removed her clothing, hanging the items on a hook  
behind the door. Reaching back into the trunk, she withdrew her  
thin, white nightshirt and slipped it on before she dimmed the  
only light in the room. B'Elanna then kicked off her shoes and  
crawled into bed. She adjusted her body instinctively to avoid  
the lumps in the bed, pulled Tobey close to her, and reflected on  
the day.  
  
"Today, I met a man," she whispered into one of the targ's ears.   
Tobey was a fine confidant. He'd patiently listen to all she had  
to say but never repeated a word to anyone. "His name is Tom,  
and he's so handsome," B'Elanna continued. "Not what I usually  
consider handsome, usually I fall for men with dark hair and  
eyes," she explained. "This guy though is tall, lean, and has  
dark, golden wavy hair and the bluest eyes. Kinda like the shade  
of that dress Grandmother Torres bought for me for that birthday  
party when I was a little girl. I hated that party dress with  
all those ruffles and bows, but oh how I loved the color." Tobey  
didn't contradict her.   
  
"I think this guy might be special," B'Elanna continued. "Not  
like the other men I've seen come into the bar. I guess you  
might call him sensitive. Not that he's some kinda saint or  
something, but Tom didn't seem like the rest. He talked to *me*.   
He could have spoken to any of the other women there, but he  
didn't. You should have seen Alini's face, Tobey. She was so  
jealous!" B'Elanna grinned in the darkness remembering the sour  
expression on the prostitute's face. Then B'Elanna sighed and  
her grin faded. She hugged Tobey tighter to her chest. "Then I  
ruined it all. That stupid Klingon side of me couldn't keep  
still and I yelled at him. He'll probably never want to see me  
again."  
  
Tobey comforted her in his silence.   
  
"Normally I wouldn't care, but this one feels different. I ..."  
  
"A-A-ALINI, Do it again!!! Oh, ALINI!"  
  
B'Elanna's reverie was disturbed by the noise and the thumping on  
the wall which followed the shout of satisfaction. Being right  
next door to Alini was not conducive to a good night's sleep.   
B'Elanna considered going next door and tell Alini to keep quiet,  
but knew that the request would fall on deaf ears, and that Mroki  
would rule on the side of her money-maker. So B'Elanna settled  
for the next best thing. She covered her head with her pillow.   
Her thoughts vacillated between smashing Alini's pretty pert nose  
in and imagining what it would be like for Tom to hold her in his  
arms.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
"Computer, begin personal log."  
  
The computer beeped acknowledging that the pilot could begin his  
transmission.  
  
"It's been a while since I've made an entry, not that I've had  
much to say. The last four months or so things didn't change on  
the ship--not that I expected them to. I almost made an entry  
after we had that last battle with the Cardassians--I don't  
really know why I'm making an entry today--other than If I don't  
confide in someone I just might burst out of my skin. Since  
there's no one on this ship that I consider a friend, I'll just  
have to resort to a 'Dear Diary' entry--so here it goes.  
  
"I feel like I got kicked in the gut today. I met a woman that  
almost literally knocked me for a loop--what a temper! And what  
a surprise! I never thought I could be affected like a lovesick  
schoolboy again--especially after all that's happened over the  
past few years. Her name is B'Elanna and she's half-Klingon.   
She's beautiful in an untamed sort of way. She says what she  
thinks, not what she thinks I want to hear. I can tell she's the  
kind of girl...strike that woman...I don't think she'd want to be  
called a girl. Anyway she's the type of woman to keep you on  
your toes.   
  
"I originally went to the bar--oh that's right I didn't tell you  
I found her in a bar, but I did. So I went in there at first for  
two things--a drink and to get laid. Well I did get the drink--  
but not the sex. What's funny is that after I left, I didn't  
mind not getting it...not after I met B'Elanna. For some reason  
I feel like I should know her, but I can't quite place it. Maybe  
I'll remember the next time I see her. In the meantime, I've got  
to get a job and make some money while we are stuck here on  
Palmat. B'Elanna needs a radiometric converter. Can't let her  
down."  
  
End Chapter 1   
  
Click Here to transport to Chapter 2 - Realization  



	3. Realization

CHAPTER 2 - REALIZATION  
  
~~~~They say,"Brandy, you're a fine girl   
~~~~What a good wife you would be   
~~~~You could steal a sailor From the sea.  
  
Tom Paris walked back into Mroki's bar two days later. It was  
the middle of the day, and he was thankful that the 'women of the  
evening' were probably still in bed sleeping off their activities  
from the night before. Tom scanned the room for a familiar  
figure, but only saw a few men scattered through the barroom. A  
flash of movement then caught his eye. He saw a small hand  
searching the top of the bar for something. Moving near the bar,  
Tom noticed that a sonic resonator was lying on the floor.   
  
He picked up the tool and placed it in the questing hand, at the  
same time keeping a firm grip on it himself.  
  
B'Elanna was surprised to find that the instrument she had been  
searching for had been placed in her palm. Grasping it tightly  
she pulled it towards her but whoever was holding the other end  
wasn't letting go. Someone was going to wish they didn't play  
these silly games, she vowed. The half-Klingon popped her head  
up above the bartop and encountered a familiar sparkling pair of  
blue eyes. Eyes she had been dreaming about since she last saw  
them. Her anger was forgotten  
  
"Tom!" she shouted.  
  
"Need some help?" he asked, his eyes lit with mischief.  
  
"Not unless you know anything about refrigerant coils and  
resonators," B'Elanna grumbled.  
  
"Sorry, not really. But I could pass you the tools you need.   
Consider me your nurse and you can be the surgeon."  
  
B'Elanna dropped back down out of sight. Gathering the various  
tools that were strewn across the bar, Tom joined her on the  
other side, taking her non-comment as a yes.  
  
"Weren't you working on this last time I was here?" he asked  
seating himself cross-legged beside her. She had her head  
halfway inside the unit she was trying to repair.  
  
"Yeah. Damn thing is so old, it's a wonder it's still  
operational." She held out her hand. "Sonic wrench."  
  
Tom sorted through the tools, selected the correct item, and  
placed it in her waiting palm.   
  
She took the wrench and began tightening a loose nut. "They  
don't even make the tools to repair this particular cooling  
device anymore," she explained. "I had to adapt current  
technology to work on this antique."  
  
"Sounds like you are pretty resourceful. Not everyone could do  
that."  
  
B'Elanna ignored the compliment. "Why did you come back, Tom?"  
she asked not daring to look at the man lest she reveal that she  
might care too much.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
She tightened a connection inside the refrigerant unit before the  
turned to face Tom Paris. "Did you come back because you felt  
sorry for me? Or because you expected to see Alini and found me  
instead?" {Am I just a diversion until she wakes up?}  
  
"I came to see you, nothing more. I couldn't give a damn about  
Alini, and I don't feel sorry for you, B'Elanna. When I was here  
the other night I really enjoyed your company. I was hoping to  
have a chance to talk to you again."  
  
"Hhrrump!" B'Elanna turned and stuck her head back into the  
refrigeration unit.   
  
"Really, B'Elanna. I went back to the ship after I left you that  
night, and all I could think about was you." He placed his hand  
on her shoulder and pulled her back.   
  
{What was that old Earth expression about punching oneself? Or  
was it pinching? Was it possible that what he's telling me is  
true?}   
  
Alini chose that moment to stroll into the tavern, traces of  
sleep were still evident on her heavily painted face. Padding  
over to the bar to retrieve a warm cup of Palmatic tea, she  
overhead voices from the other side below the countertop.   
Peering over, she was surprised to see the handsome blonde  
stranger she had seen in the bar a few nights ago. She was even  
more surprised to see that once again he was talking with  
B'Elanna.  
  
"I'm telling you the truth, B'Elanna. I'd really like to speak  
with you again. Do you think that we could go some place, just  
me and you, and talk?"  
  
"Talk?"  
  
"Promise--just talk."  
  
The quiet ones always want to 'just talk.' Then the talk leads to  
other things, Alini mused.   
  
"I found a nice little cafe--well as nice as it gets in Malac.   
Will you come with me and join me for dinner? I hate to eat  
alone."   
  
{I bet there are a lot of things you hate to do alone, stranger--  
and I'd be glad to keep you company.} Alini thought, trying to  
finger comb her hair to look more presentable.  
  
"They may not serve me."  
  
"I've already spoken with the proprietor. They'll be no  
problem," Tom assured her.  
  
It had been a long time since she ate anywhere but Mroki's. Her  
stomachs were already growling, and she knew that if she ate at  
the bar they were serving volmo soup today, which she hated. With  
that as incentive, it didn't take much for her to decide.   
"Thanks, Tom. I'd like that."  
  
His face broke into a wide smile. B'Elanna couldn't help but  
smile back, his happiness was contagious. "Then let's go."  
  
Alini stepped back from her eavesdropping post when she heard the  
sound of movement below.   
  
Rising up to his full height, Tom reached down to help B'Elanna  
up.   
  
"Give me a minute to take care of the tools and run upstairs,  
then I can leave."  
  
Tom nodded and watched her gather her tools together. She  
carefully placed them in a square tool kit before she exited the  
bar through a side door.   
  
B'Elanna ran up the stairs, and quickly unlocked her door.   
Opening the trunk, she pulled out a scarlet red top with the  
short sleeves that exposed her belly-button, a tight pair of  
black slacks, and a well-worn pair of black shoes.   
  
She hoped that Tom wouldn't notice how many times the pants had  
been repaired since she had left the Academy. The right knee had  
been patched twice and the side seam on her left hip had been  
sewn up so many times she had lost count, but they would have to  
do. They were the best she had.  
  
Running a comb through her hair she wished she had some of that  
scent Trini wore. Trini was one of Mroki's girls whom B'Elanna  
liked the best. Occasionally, the young prostitute would talk to  
her when no one else was looking. None of the others bothered.  
  
Though inside her stomachs were doing cartwheels, B'Elanna tried  
to appear confident as she descended the stairs to the bar.   
Pushing open the door and entering the bar she almost turned  
around and went back up the stairs, but when she caught sight of  
Tom waiting for her she knew she was doing the right thing. He  
was smiling at her as if she was the only one in the world.  
  
"You look lovely," Paris said when he finally found his voice.   
  
B'Elanna froze in place. The last person that told her that she  
looked lovely had been her father. Perhaps that was why she  
still kept Tobey with her?   
  
"Er...thanks." She had never learned how to return a compliment  
gracefully--probably because she had never received many.   
  
She's embarrassed, Tom realized. How odd and refreshing to see a  
Klingon, or a half-Klingon, at a loss for words. "Are you  
ready?"  
  
B'Elanna nodded.  
  
"When will you return?" the bartender called out. "What shall I  
tell Mroki?"  
  
The side door opened again and this time a tall, large woman with  
blue-gray hair artistically piled on her head entered the bar.   
She was dressed in a dramatic floor length, emerald green caftan  
that billowed around her.  
  
"Tell me what?" the woman asked in a loud voice. If there was  
one thing Maroki wasn't, it was subtle.  
  
Alini, who had kept her eye on what was transpiring, settled back  
to enjoy the fireworks.   
  
"I was asking B'Elanna what time she'd be coming back to the  
bar," the bartender explained politely. He didn't want to  
receive the brunt of his employer's famous wrath.  
  
"Coming back?" Mroki asked turning to face B'Elanna. "Coming  
back from where exactly?" The fireworks smouldered.   
  
Tom stepped forward between the two women. He smiled broadly and  
extended his hand to the owner of the bar. Mroki placed her  
chubby hand in his. Gallantly Paris brought her hand to his lips  
and brushed her knuckles with a kiss.   
  
"You must be Mroki," he gushed. "B'Elanna has told me so much  
about you. About how you came to her aid when no one else would."  
  
"Why, y--yes," the bar owner stammered, flattered by the  
attention that the handsome young man was paying her. Fireworks  
fizzled much to Alini's disappointment.  
  
"Do you realize how many extra hours B'Elanna works simply  
because she appreciates what you've done for her?"  
  
How did he know? B'Elanna thought.  
  
"B'Elanna is a wonderful employee. She's a hard worker," Mroki  
admitted. She'd admit anything if he would just stand here and  
talk to her.  
  
Paris flashed her another winning smile. "I told B'Elanna that  
any employer that was that kind wouldn't begrudge her the  
opportunity to go out for a change of scenery and a bite to eat."  
{You exploiting, manipulating madame.}  
  
"Oh, of...course!" Mroki looked beyond the man that had tied  
himself so expertly and so quickly around her little finger.   
"B'Elanna dear, you take all the time you want. You deserve it.   
And here..." Mroki reluctantly reached into the robe and withdrew  
a small change purse. Opening it, she removed several luma and  
passed them to the half-Klingon. "...buy something nice for  
yourself. For *yourself* mind you," she repeated,"and not for  
that ship of yours I let take up space in my warehouse." Mroki  
focused her attention back on Tom wagging a finger which was  
encircled with a large golden ring in his face. "And you see  
that she minds."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Tom chirped.  
  
"Now be off with you," Mroki admonished. "And have a good time."  
  
B'Elanna marveled at the handful of luma Mroki had given her.   
With what she had already saved, this would allow her to purchase  
some more items for her ship.  
  
"That's for you," Tom reminded her.  
  
"But..."  
  
"No buts" he countered, and offered her his arm. "I promised  
Mroki"  
  
B'Elanna clasped his arm with her hand, pleased with the muscles  
she felt beneath Tom's sleeve.  
  
Alini couldn't help but be amazed at what had just transpired.   
It wasn't everyday a man could sweet talk Mroki. In fact, she  
couldn't ever remember it happening. This blond god of a man was  
too good to be wasted on the bar's fix-me-up girl, the prostitute  
decided. In fact, he was too good for any one but herself.   
Leaving her vantage point, Alini moved closer to the pair like a  
lioness stalking her prey.   
  
B'Elanna, noticing the approaching whore, gripped Tom's arm  
tighter. She wasn't about to let Alini sink her fangs into him--  
that was her job she decided {Where did that come from?} B'Elanna  
hurried him towards the outside door before Alini could lay  
claim.  
  
Exiting the tavern, the pair almost knocked over Ken Dalby, a  
member of the Maquis crew, who was entering the bar.   
  
"Paris, so this is where you've been hiding?" Dalby asked  
stepping back to avoid being trampled. "I thought Chakotay was  
looking for a new pilot with as much time you've been off the  
ship recently."  
  
"He knows I still come back to the Liberty at night, Dalby," Tom  
spat. "What I do during my waking hours is no one's business but  
my own."  
  
"If you say so." Ken Dalby didn't look convinced. "But the  
Cap'n didn't look too happy earlier when no one knew where to  
find you." Dalby didn't care very much for the young hot shot  
pilot, and enjoyed ribbing the man. Everyone else on board was  
serving because they had a personal stake in the outcome of the  
Maquis rebellion. Ken knew that the only reason Tom Paris was on  
board was because of some debt he owed Chakotay.   
  
Tom hurried B'Elanna past his crewmate. "Let *me* worry about  
Chakotay, Dalby," he spat just pulling B'Elanna outside, "and you  
mind your own business."  
  
Alini noticed the exchange and slinked across the barroom. When  
she neared Dalby she wantonly pressed herself up against the new  
guest. "Having problems, Uliz? What can Alini do to make it  
better?" The words dripped like honey from her ripe lips--honey  
laced with poison if you listened carefully. Ken Dalby's hearing  
was never very good.  
  
Ken felt the warmth of her very female body against him. The  
feel of the beautiful woman's generous breasts pressed against  
his chest made him weak in the knees. "U-Uliz?" he stammered.   
"My n-name isn't Uliz."  
  
Alini ran her painted fingers through Ken's chestnut-colored  
hair. "Consider it a compliment," she purred. "Why don't we get  
you a drink and you can keep me company over there?" Alini  
gripped his arm possessively pointing to a table at the back of  
the room.  
  
"S-Sure." Who was he to turn down an invitation from a beautiful  
woman?  
  
Stopping by the bar, Alini procured a tongue-loosening double  
Risan whiskey and then led Ken to their table. Placing the drink  
in front of him, Alini curled up beside the man, affording him an  
unobstructed view of her abundant cleavage.   
  
She waited for him to take several mouthfuls from the glass  
before she began to interrogate him. "Who was that man?"  
  
"What? Who?"  
  
"The man that you spoke to when you came in," she reminded him.   
"The one that upset you."  
  
"You mean Paris?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes, Paris."  
  
Dalby swallowed a large mouthful of booze at the mere thought of  
the man. "He's just some hot shot pilot our captain picked up."  
  
Alini placed her hand on Dalby's meaty thigh and squeezed. "I  
thought he seemed...um...oh...familiar in a way," she lied trying  
to coax out more information that she could use to her advantage.  
  
"He's familiar all right. He has so much Starfleet brass in his  
family it's a wonder they don't rename Starfleet "Paris-fleet,"  
Ken snorted.  
  
"Brass?" She pouted pretending not to understand the term. Over  
the years plying her trade Alini had learned that acting dumb  
sometimes paid off very well.  
  
"Yeah. His whole family's made up of admirals 'n commanders.   
His daddy's one of 'em. 'Parently Admiral Paris had groomed his  
only son to follow in his illustrious footsteps, but Tom Paris  
screwed up." Ken snorted and drank from the glass again.  
  
Alini urged him on. The story was starting to get better. "So  
what happened?"  
  
"Our *top gun pilot* caused an accident that killed three other  
cadets shortly before he left the Academy," there was no doubt by  
the way he emphasized the words "top gun pilot" that Ken despised  
the man. "First Paris blamed it on an equipment malfunction.   
Later they found out he had lied. An investigation pointed to  
pilot error and Starfleet cashiered his sorry ass out of the  
service. Damn, I would have loved to have seen the look on his  
old man's face when he heard the news about his precious son."   
Dalby laughed cruely.  
  
"What happened after?"   
  
"Not much I guess. Rumor has it that Paris just dug into the  
family fortune and drank himself from bar to bar until the Cap'n  
found him on some little planet. He bailed Paris' butt out of  
some prison."  
  
"Fortune?" Alini was suddenly even more interested in the pilot.  
  
"Along with all the Starfleet officers in the family--the Paris  
clan is stinkin' rich," Dalby admitted throwing back the rest of  
his drink.  
  
{Hmmm, handsome, powerful, gallant, and best of all RICH! Doesn't  
get any better than that! This kind of information deserved a  
reward.}   
  
"Tell me something about yourself, and then we'll see if Alini  
can do something *special* for you," she purred.   
  
Ken Dalby grinned.   
  
* * * * * *  
  
B'Elanna, gripping Tom's hand, followed the tall man down street  
after street, neither of them exchanging any words. She could  
tell the encounter at the bar with his crewmate had upset Paris  
from the way his jaw was clenched and she hoped his anger would  
soon pass  
  
  
The encountered with did produce one thing. She now knew his  
last name and it explained a lot. He was one of the Starfleet  
Parises--the one that had gotten into trouble. She had always  
wondered what his version of events from his past might be.  
  
They were getting further and further away from Mroki's place and  
had turned onto a wide avenue that was lined with shops, places  
to eat, and what passed on Palmat as trees--stumps of petrified  
wood that stuck up out of the ground. Testament of what had once  
been a thriving forest over a millennia ago. This was the nicer  
side of Malac B'Elanna had only heard about. The pair walked  
down the street for several minutes before Tom came to stop in  
front of large colorful building. Flags flew in the dry breeze  
and several different articles of clothing hung in the shop's  
window. Tom steered her toward the building, but B'Elanna hung  
back. Turning, he faced her and noted her look of concern.  
  
"Are you okay?" she asked.  
  
Tom sighed and looked past her trying to collect his thoughts  
before he again focused on her upturned face. "Yeah, I'm all  
right. I'm sorry I wasn't better company," he flashed her a  
half-smile of apology. "It's just that Ken Dalby gets under my  
skin sometimes. The walk helped let off some steam."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me, Tom?" B'Elanna wasn't going to let this  
drop so easily.  
  
"Tell you?" He didn't understand the question.  
  
She folded her arms across her chest and stood her ground. "Tell  
me you are the pilot that I was talking about when we first met?"   
  
"Oh, that." Tom shrugged and ran his long fingers through his  
hair to expel some nervous energy. "I guess, I simply wanted you  
to like me for me, and not because I was a pilot." And I didn't  
want you to find out anything more about me, and make this more  
complicated that it has to be, he finished the thought silently.  
  
"I do like you, for you." Which was true--his past didn't really  
matter to her.  
  
He smiled at hearing her say those words. Tom didn't realize just  
how much it mattered to him that she liked him, until that  
moment. "I'm glad. You don't know how much that means."   
  
B'Elanna had a feeling she did, she felt the same.   
  
His mouth curled upward and his blue eyes twinkled. "Ready to go  
in?"  
  
"Do we have to do this?" B'Elanna asked.  
  
"I promised Mroki. Haven't you heard the saying: Don't look a  
gift horse in the mouth?"  
  
B'Elanna's flashing eyes challenged him, but Tom simply ignored  
her. He gripped her hand in his and pulled her along behind him  
and through the store's front door.  
  
"Tom, really, I could use that money better for my ship,"  
B'Elanna argued even after they were inside.  
  
"This time we'll worry about you, next time we'll shop for your  
ship," Tom remarked.   
  
{Next time? Was there going to be a next time? What do you know  
that I don't?}  
  
B'Elanna stood beside him as Tom fingered his way through a rack  
of lightweight dresses and stylish but practical pant suits.   
Every once in a while, he'd stop and pull out one of the frocks  
for closer inspection. If he was satisfied with it, he'd place  
the item in B'Elanna's unwilling hands. It wasn't long before  
she had several articles of clothing piled in her arms.   
  
An observant clerk noticed the pair and approached them. Spying  
the ripples on B'Elanna forehead, she made an instinctive  
circular motion with her left hand. Quickly, before she could  
drop her hand, Tom smoothly clasped it with his own.  
  
"Madam," he remarked. "Your establishment is exquisite. My  
companion and I are quite amazed with the quality and variety of  
your merchandise." Tom's face broke into a wide, welcoming grin.   
"Can you be so kind to direct us to a changing area where my  
friend can try on a few things?"  
  
The clerk was captivated by the handsome stranger and soon forgot  
her initial superstitions. She nodded once and cheerfully  
directed them to one of the shop's changing rooms.   
  
"But, Tom, I really don't need anything," B'Elanna argued. Paris  
ignored her protests and pushed her toward the appointed room.   
  
"When was the last time you bought anything for yourself?"   
  
"Well--ah--" B'Elanna stammered. "It was...no well maybe it was  
when..."  
  
"I thought as much. It's not that what you're wearing isn't  
becoming. It is. But it's time for something new and you  
deserve it. Now get in there and starting trying these things  
on. And I want to see everything," he instructed. "And I won't  
take no for an answer. Now shoo!"  
  
B'Elanna growled and slipped into the changing area. Hearing the  
growl, Tom replied with a chuckle--a growl was certainly worth a  
thousand words...words, epithets, threats... He loved it!  
  
One by one, B'Elanna tried on each of the dresses and in turn  
modeled them, albeit unwillingly, for Tom. He rejected two of  
the collection immediately noting that the yellow stripe and pink  
print, didn't compliment her complexion.   
  
In the end, he selected two items which B'Elanna had to concur  
suited her very well: a coral colored, gauzy pant suit and a  
solid cream colored sun dress.   
  
Back in the changing area for the last time, B'Elanna was going  
to put the slacks and top on that she had worn in back on, but  
touching the soft fabric of the sun dress, she changed her mind  
and opted for that instead. When she stepped out and saw the way  
Tom's eyes lit up she knew she had made the right choice. If  
only her worn sandals were in better condition, B'Elanna mused,  
but shrugged the thought away and approached the pilot. Her old  
shoes would have to do.  
  
Placing the pant suit on the counter, B'Elanna waited for the  
clerk to tally up the purchases, when Tom placed a box in her  
hands.   
  
"What's this? B'Elanna asked.  
  
"Open it up," he urged with a grin. "And find out. Consider it  
my little present to you."  
  
Quizzically, she pried off the lid, to reveal a pair of flesh  
colored heeled sandals that would compliment either outfit.   
Trying them on, she was pleased to find that they fit perfectly.   
The supple leather-like straps formed to her feet like they had  
been made specifically for her. "Tom, they're lovely, but you  
shouldn't."  
  
"Humor me, B'Elanna. I'm not taking no for an answer."  
  
B'Elanna flexed her foot, the sandals felt very comfortable.  
"It's a good thing, that I like them, or you might have a fight  
on your hands," she relented. Tom grinned and instructed the  
clerk to conclude the purchase.   
  
Exiting the shop with packages in hand, the pair wove their way  
up the street pausing at various kiosks until they stopped in  
front of a red and white trimmed building.  
  
Tom took a step forward toward the building's front door when he  
realized that B'Elanna wasn't following him. He turned to her  
and saw the look of uncertainty on her face.   
  
B'Elanna felt uneasy. What seemed to be a good idea at Mroki's  
now didn't seem so great. She had noticed the clerk make the  
sign to ward off evil--in other words *her*, even though Tom did  
a good job covering it. Any time she had entered any of the  
shops or cafes in the neighbor where the bar was located she felt  
unwelcomed, particularly when the Palmat citizens made that  
curious circular motion with their hands. It made the reception  
she had received on Kessik IV and the Klingon home world seem  
almost cordial.  
  
"I told you before I talked with the owner, B'Elanna. You don't  
have to worry about not being welcomed."  
  
"I don't know," she hedged and bit her lip nervously.  
  
"He's a Telkian," Tom explained. "Have you ever seen a Telkian?  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"They have a ridge that begins at the tip of their nose, goes up  
their forehead where it splits and forms a curly-Q on each side."  
Paris traced the pattern on B'Elanna's face, his finger lightly  
touching her own ridges.  
  
Standing there before him, she was mesmerized. The touch of his  
finger against the raised crests sent a feeling through her body  
that she had never felt before. It was scary and exciting at the  
same time.   
  
Tom gratefully noticed the change or her attitude. She seemed  
more at ease. "Can we go in now?"  
  
She nodded numbly, not trusting herself to speak.  
  
Entering the elegantly appointed restaurant, the Telkian that Tom  
told her about greeted them warmly, escorted them personally to a  
table in the center of the dining room, and handed them menus.   
Seeing the crisp white tablecloths and sprigs of wildflowers that  
adorned the table, B'Elanna was very glad that she had opted to  
change her clothes.  
  
Tom noticed that B'Elanna was overcome with the reception they  
had received and with the splendor of the furnishings inside. It  
had probably been a long time since she had dined in such a nice  
place. He was very glad that he could do this for her.   
  
"I hope you didn't mind being seated next to the fountain?" Tom  
asked and indicated a small geometric-shaped fountain that  
spouted streams of water at random from various locations. It  
looked like it had been assembled by fusing large clear crystals  
together. It was the central attraction of the room, and it was  
stunning.   
  
"It's wonderful, Tom. I had only heard about this section of  
town, but I've never been here. I'm glad you brought me."  
  
"Mroki's been keeping you too busy. You need to get out every  
once in a while."  
  
B'Elanna nodded. "How'd you find it this place?"  
  
"Just by chance." That was true. He found it when he was in  
search of a job in which to earn a little bit of extra money  
while the Liberty was being repaired. "Are you ready to order?"  
he asked, knowing that she had yet to peruse the menu.   
  
B'Elanna grinned guiltily and opened the large menu. Looking it  
over, she was very glad that the description of the items also  
included translation into Federation Standard. Even so, some of  
the dishes didn't seem to translate very well. Just what was  
braised muscle of shingle anyway? Would anyone really eat ripe  
flesh in anemic sauce? Some of the items though did sound  
familiar to her. B'Elanna was tempted to order the Gidean  
specialty Roscato which consisted of a wild rice, fresh  
vegetables, and fish served with a spicy sauce, but when she  
noticed the price for the meal she chose something far less  
costly. Closing her menu she waited for Tom to make his  
decision.  
  
Tom looked up at her. "All set?"  
  
B'Elanna nodded.  
  
"Good. Me too." Looking across the room, he waved his menu.   
The movement caught the eye of a Telkian waiter who promptly  
returned to their table, his fingers poised above his order PADD.  
  
"I see you've decided. What'll you have, plutec?"   
  
Plutec? She'd only heard a few of the women in the bar referred  
to by such an esteemed name, like when the liquor merchant was  
trying to sweet talk Mroki. It caught her off guard for a  
moment. "Um...the...um... looks good."  
  
The waiter began to enter the order into his PADD. "Is that all?  
he asked looking up at the half-Klingon.  
  
B'Elanna nodded.  
  
"Wait right there!" The Teklian's fingers froze at Tom's  
outburst. "I didn't bring you here for you to eat just a salad!"  
  
"But that's what I want!"  
  
"You can't be serious! Just a salad?"  
  
"I said I wanted a salad," B'Elanna insisted in a loud voice.  
  
"Your kidding?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Have the brine salad if you want to, but if you really are  
hungry, please order something else. I can't tell you how many  
women I've ever known that may not have eaten for a week and  
could cheerfully devour one of everything on the menu. Because  
of their vanity though they order a bite of vegetation and a  
swallow of water and proclaim that they are full."  
  
"I'll *have* the brine salad!" she repeated, this time in a  
louder voice. The other patrons in the restaurant stopped eating  
and looked over to their table to see what was going on.  
  
"Wouldn't you rather have the Roscato? It's suppose to be a  
house specialty. Waiter, please bring us two servings of Roscato  
and a bottle your best wine. Then, if you have room for the  
brine salad after you have desert, you can order it." With  
flashing blue eyes, Tom dared her to refuse.  
  
The waiter not wanting to be present a moment longer than  
necessary, made note of the order in the preceding small moment  
of silence, collected the menus, and quickly left the table.  
  
"Tom."  
  
"What?"  
  
"If you were a Klingon what you did could have been construed as  
a proposal of marriage!"  
  
Paris' eyes widened, he had no idea.   
  
A small smile spread over B'Elanna's face when she noticed Tom's  
stunned reaction. "Relax, Tom, I'm only half-Klingon."  
  
The pilot swallowed down a lump in his throat. "So I'm only  
half-committed to marriage?  
  
B'Elanna's smile turned into a laugh. The diners returned their  
attentions to their meals, satisfied that a fight wasn't going to  
break out.  
  
"You didn't really want the salad, did you?"  
  
"No. Not really," she admitted. Paris returned the smile.  
  
"Just don't let that happen again, or you might find yourself  
engaged," she warned. "My cousin, K'Karn, on my mother's side  
would defend my honor at all costs."  
  
"K'Karn?"  
  
"He's my clan's bat'leth champion."  
  
{Bat'leths. Sharp, dangerous, and above all deadly.} "Well,  
I'll be more careful what I say in the future," the pilot  
promised. "But it'll be difficult. I've never been one to think  
before I speak."  
  
"Sounds like something we both have in common."  
  
"Guess so." Tom looked pensive. Just when he had almost  
convinced himself that he could think of B'Elanna Torres as a  
momentary distraction, she'd say something that would endear her  
all the more to him. Something that would make it all that much  
harder to say goodbye when the Liberty left Palmat.   
  
The Telkian waiter returned with a bottle of wine and two long  
stemmed goblets on a tray. Pouring a little wine in one goblet  
he passed it to Tom, who swirled the amber liquid in the glass  
and then brought it to his lips and sipped at the liquid. The  
pilot nodded at the waiter signifying his acceptance of the wine,  
and the Telkian filled the other goblet, passed it to B'Elanna,  
and then replenished Tom's glass.  
  
Seeing how quiet Tom had suddenly become, B'Elanna decided that a  
change the topic would be a good idea. "I like this place.   
Particularly the fountain," she commented bringing the goblet to  
her lips. Taking a sip, she savored the fruity concoction. "I  
didn't even know there was a fountain in Malac; it adds a lot of  
character to the room."  
  
"It's refreshing. Almost makes your forget how dry it is  
outside," Tom remarked.  
  
"With the abundant groundwater resources, it's surprising you  
don't see more of them," B'Elanna replied. "Then again, the good  
citizens of Palmat aren't really found of water."  
  
"What do you mean?" he asked. Tom would have thought that with  
as dry as the planet was, water from any source would have been  
almost revered.  
  
B'Elanna took another taste of the wine before she replied.   
"Well, water that they pump directly from the ground seems to be  
okay, but the few areas of open water that exist they avoid like  
a plague."   
  
"Why's that?"  
  
"The only reason I can figure is that as far as I know, they  
can't swim--not a stroke."  
  
"not surprising, I guess."  
  
"No, it's not. In fact, most suicides and murders on Palmat are  
a direct result of drowning. If the authorities suspect that a  
suicide or a murder has occurred, they go to these areas of open  
water and drag the bottom for the body. Most times they're  
successful."  
  
"What a waste, to live in a land so hot and dry and not to know  
the pleasure of swimming," Tom commented. "Whatever do they do to  
keep themselves clean? Not that all do." He remembered that  
some of the residents of Malac looked unkempt and dirty.  
  
"Well there are a number of sonic shower facilities scattered  
throughout the city. Mroki even owns half interest in one of  
them. I'm sure she makes a profit from it that a Ferengi would  
envy.   
  
Tom chuckled.  
  
"Some of the more wealthy citizens have their own. Other than  
that--your guess is as good as mine."  
  
"I don't think I'll hazard a guess. It's probably a good thing  
we have our own sonic showers on the ship," Tom noted.  
  
"How are the repairs coming along?" B'Elanna asked taking another  
sip from her goblet.  
  
"Slow."  
  
B'Elanna was glad to hear the news. The longer the repairs took  
the more time she'd have with Tom.  
  
"The ship's engineer is having a problem with the port nacelle--  
the frequency won't stabilize."  
  
"Has he tried recalibrating the injection ports?"  
  
Tom shrugged. He had no idea.  
  
"Or if that doesn't work, he should try flushing the warp lines,"  
she continued.  
  
"I'll tell him. You really do know your stuff, don't you?"  
  
B'Elanna smiled slightly and blushed. "That's what Professor  
Nakot told me--too bad that the rest of the instructors didn't  
see it."  
  
Tom slapped his hand on the table. "So that's why you look so  
familiar! You were at the Academy!"   
  
B'Elanna's bright smile fled. "Yeah, for a while, but it was a  
mistake for me to even apply to Starfleet. During my whole time  
there, it was one argument after another. I can't tell you how  
many professors I had run-ins with."  
  
"Your last name is Torres," he stated when realization dawned.  
  
B'Elanna nodded. "How'd you know?"  
  
Tom laughed. "Actually, I've seen you before, even though it was  
indirectly. I just didn't make the connection before."  
  
"Where did you see me?"  
  
"It was about four or five years ago, it was during my senior  
year at the Academy. I had gone to deliver one of my assignments  
to my instructor--Professor Zuta. Did you ever have Zuta?"  
  
B'Elanna shook her head. "Nope, I was due to have him in my  
third year, but I was gone by then."  
  
"You weren't missing much. Very dry little man, it was a  
challenge to stay awake during his lectures. He could make sex  
with a Kl...um...well. He was dull and let's leave it at that."  
  
B'Elanna noted the slip of his tongue but chose to ignore it.   
She was more interesting in what he was going to tell her about  
Zuta. "Continue," she prompted.  
  
"Yeah...um...oh, yes--Zuta. When I entered his office that day,  
he was having a discussion with a friend of my father--Captain  
Konchak. Zuta asked me to wait while he finished, knowing I was  
well acquainted with the Captain, he kept on talking. They were  
talking about this upstart of a cadet--a cadet named Torres..."  
  
B'Elanna's eyes opened a little wider.   
  
"This cadet had the nerve to challenge some of her engineering  
professors' tried and proven theories," Paris continued.  
  
"They were probably speculating how long it would be before I'd  
be booted out of the Academy." B'Elanna drank deeply from her  
goblet trying to cover her reaction to both Tom's tale and her  
suspicions.  
  
"No," Tom replied. "Captain Konchak asked who this Cadet Torres  
was. Zuta called up your holoimage on his computer. I'll never  
forget Konchak's remark."  
  
B'Elanna froze, expecting to hear the worst.  
  
"He turned to the Professor and said 'so that's the one who  
should be teaching the class'. The Captain then informed him  
that Picard had already expressed interest in the cadet's  
talents."  
  
"I--I don't believe it!" B'Elanna exclaimed.  
  
"It's true," Tom insisted. "Of course the main reason I remember  
all this was because of the holoimage that was displayed. Back  
then your hair was shorter--about to here." He leaned across the  
cable and touched B'Elanna's neck just below her ear. "You were  
dressed as a cadet then, but I remember you."  
  
"Maybe you remember me because there weren't that many Klingons  
in Starfleet," B'Elanna surmised, contemplating the wine that  
remained in the glass. How could he possibly remember what she  
looked like back then if it wasn't for that? Freaks were easy to  
pick out.  
  
Again Tom extended his hand, this time placing his index finger  
against her chin. Tilting her face up he looked into her velvety  
brown eyes.  
  
"No, B'Elanna. The reason why I remember all this so well, was  
that I was struck by your beauty."  
  
B'Elanna tried to turn her head to avoid his scrutinizing gaze,  
but Tom wouldn't drop his hand.  
  
"I found you fascinating then, and even more so now that I've  
gotten to know you. Perhaps it is fate that allowed me to find  
you in this corner of the universe." Tom dropped his hand but  
continued to focus on the woman before him.  
  
Shutting her eyes, B'Elanna tried to steady her emotions. No one  
could consider her beautiful she thought, especially not someone  
so handsome as Tom. Fun to be with maybe? But beautiful?  
Hardly.  
  
"B'Elanna," he beckoned   
  
She opened her eyes again and looked at the pilot.  
  
"I mean it, B'Elanna. I think you're beautiful and someday I  
hope you'll see it too."  
  
At that tender moment, the waiter arrived with their meals  
interrupting their intimate discussion.   
  
In silence, the pair ate their Roscato looking up from time to  
time at the other as if trying to gauge the other's thoughts.   
  
{Was he telling the truth?}  
  
{Does she believe me?}  
  
{Dare I hope that I've found someone that can love me, and I  
him?}  
  
{Can she overlook my past?}  
  
{How long can this last?}  
  
Unanswered questions that needed to be answered, if there were to  
be hope for the future.  
  
After the meals were finished, the pair quickly left the cafe  
hand in hand. Tom steered them back the way they had come.  
Strolling along the street, they stopped from time to time to  
examine different kiosks--there was a small shop which sold  
scarves, one which sold jewelry, and another that specialized in  
a variety of leather products. Neither wanted their time  
together to come to and end, but both knew they had  
responsibilities they couldn't ignore. As the twin suns began to  
set, they turned away from the shops, entering the side road they  
had taken before.  
  
Retracing their path, they ultimately reached the point in their  
journey where Tom would have to turn to the right and go back to  
his ship, and B'Elanna would take the left to return to the bar.   
It was at this point, where a large stone wall followed the edge  
of the small lane before it emptied onto another main street,  
that they stopped.   
  
"It's getting dark," B'Elanna observed.   
  
"Yeah, I need to be returning to the ship. They'll be expecting  
me."   
  
"I should be returning to the bar as well. The refrigerant unit  
probably has stopped working again, but I wish it didn't have to  
end," B'Elanna admitted.  
  
Tom guided her away from the other people walking along the  
street and towards the stonewall.  
  
Tom nodded. "It doesn't have to, not now. The ship will still  
be in port for another two weeks."  
  
"Then you have to go," B'Elanna replied sadly. Two weeks seemed  
so short.  
  
"Yeah, I know. I promised the Captain." Tom stepped closer to  
her.   
  
B'Elanna stood her ground tilting her head up to meet his gaze.   
"Your promises mean a lot to you."  
  
"Yeah, I guess. It would have been dishonorable if I had left  
them," the pilot explained. "Honor--that's something that  
Klingon's value."  
  
"Above all else," B'Elanna added. She swallowed down a lump in  
her throat as Paris encroached upon her personal space. She  
licked her lips nervously as he got even closer. Noticing the  
trail of sweat that coursed down his temple and over his fair  
cheek, she longed to lick that too.   
  
Taking the initiative, Tom placed his hands on her upper arms and  
pulled B'Elanna toward him. She didn't resist, but he could  
sense her anxiety in the way she quivered beneath his touch.  
  
Nostrils flared in an effort to capture his scent. It was an  
exhilarating, heady experience. No other man she had known  
before had affected her this way, especially in such a short  
period of time. B'Elanna had an overwhelming urge to attack him,  
bite him, and taste every square centimeter of his flesh. Her  
breath caught in her throat at the very thought. She wanted to  
not just smell his scent but to engulf herself in it. To become  
one with...   
  
Bending over her Tom pressed his mouth against hers. The  
pilot's mouth explored new territory, searching, teasing, and  
savoring the red ripe lips. Like a connoisseur of fine wine, he  
languished, taking the time to appreciate every nuance. He  
reveled in the fullness of her lips and how they trembled beneath  
his own. Tom's arms encircled B'Elanna's body and pulled her  
into a clutching, desperate embrace--like a drowning man who  
finally found the sweetest oxygen to breathe.   
  
Parting her lips, she allowed him access and he didn't  
disappoint. His probing tongue entered her mouth and she tasted  
him. Her human side forced the Klingon half from knocking him to  
the ground and ripping his clothes off. The Klingon half vowed  
that before this man left Palmat, he would be hers.  
  
B'Elanna purred with pleasure spurring Tom on. His hands  
explored her back and he pushed against her in an effort to taste  
as much of her mouth as was possible, oblivious to the world  
around him.  
  
"Hey, Tom!" A voice called out. When no reply was forthcoming,  
the owner of the voice tapped the pilot on the shoulder. "TOM  
PARIS!"  
  
Pulling away from B'Elanna, Paris looked up, mouth lax, puzzled  
by the interruption.  
  
Geron, a young Bajoran Maquis, was standing beside the pair; his  
arms crossed in front of his chest. "The Captain's looking for  
you, Paris."  
  
"For me?" Tom looked at Geron. B'Elanna, lips swollen, turned  
away to avoid the young man's gaze.  
  
"He sent me out looking for you over an hour ago. Apparently  
your commbadge isn't working. He needs you back on the ship,  
something about them reinitializing the helm controls."  
  
"Ah...right. I'll be right along."  
  
"He said *now*, Paris."  
  
"I heard you. I'm right behind you."  
  
Tom twisted around and gripped B'Elanna by the shoulder. "I'll  
be back. It's a promise."  
  
B'Elanna reached up and covered his hand with her own and  
squeezed. Then he was gone.  
  
End Chapter 2  
  
Click here to transport to Chapter 3 - Commitment 


	4. Commitment

CHAPTER 3 - COMMITMENT  
  
~~~~Brandy used to watch his eyes   
~~~~When he told his sailing stories   
~~~~She could feel the ocean fall and rise   
~~~~She saw its raging glory  
  
The next morning...  
  
"What are you up to, Paris?"  
  
Sitting cross-legged on his bunk, Tom looked up to see the  
Captain of the Liberty. The dark-haired, tall man, with a tattoo  
on his forehead was leaning against the arch that separated Tom's  
quarters from the narrow, main corridor of the ship.   
  
"Not much, Chakotay, just counting." He looked back down and  
continued his task. "How much do you suppose a radiometric  
converter goes for?" Paris asked casually.  
  
Chakotay shrugged. "I'm not sure--perhaps forty to forty-five  
luma. Why do you need to know? The Liberty doesn't use that  
technology."  
  
"I know it doesn't. Looks like I'm short about six luma." Tom  
observed. Taking a handful of the silver colored cubes, he put  
all the luma back into a leather pouch and hung it around his  
neck.  
  
"Where did you come up with all that money?" Chakotay asked.   
"Gambling again?"  
  
The pilot grinned. "A little, but only on sure things.   
Actually, I've been doing some odd jobs here and there."  
  
The Captain was interested and curious. Pulling a chair closer  
to Paris, he straddled it and sat down. "What type of con do you  
have going?" he asked.  
  
Tom adjusted the money pouch under his shirt so it lay flat and  
would go unnoticed by Malac's resourceful pickpockets.   
  
"I told you the truth, I worked for most of this."  
  
Chakotay wasn't convinced, his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized  
the pilot. "Then why do you need a radiometric converter?   
What's your game?"  
  
"They really should install doors to the cabins," Tom grumbled.   
He looked up to see that the Captain's expression had turned into  
a glower--the big man wanted an answer. "Well if you must know,  
the radiometric converter is for a lady I met."  
  
A sly grin spread over the Captain's face. "This *lady* must  
work for an unusual establishment, if it takes spaceship parts in  
trade for services rendered."   
  
Tom shot up from his bunk and, grabbing the Captain by his  
shoulders, pulled him up and out of his seat. "This lady is no  
whore!" he roared. "She's beautiful, smart, and she's an  
engineer!" Blue eyes flashed with barely controlled anger.  
  
Chakotay's dark eyes popped open. He'd never seen Tom Paris move  
so fast on his feet. "Hey, easy there," he cautioned hands  
raised. "I'm sorry I didn't realize that this was something  
different. I guess for you do go to this trouble she must be  
pretty special." {Say anything to get this hot-head to calm  
down.}  
  
Tom released the older man. "She is. Sorry I grabbed you. I  
just got carried away."  
  
"No problem, Paris," Chakotay said pulling his tunic top back  
into place and adjusting his brown leather-like vest. "Just  
don't let it happen again."   
  
Tom nodded once.  
  
"But for spirit's sake, don't get involved with any of the local  
women. It'll just spell trouble for you and/or them in the long  
run. We are in the Maquis, Paris. When I sprung you out of that  
rat-infested prison, you agreed to pilot for me. I'm holding you  
to that agreement."   
  
"I haven't forgotten, Chakotay. Two years or until the fighting  
stops."  
  
The Captain nodded. So far the arrangement had worked well, as  
least in one respect. A finer pilot, he had never seen, but he  
wasn't about to tell Tom Paris that. He was too cocky as it was,  
and the women falling all over themselves to get near him didn't  
help.  
  
"I know how lonely it can get, Paris," Chakotay sympathized  
patting the young man on the shoulder. "But don't drag a woman  
into this mess. It isn't fair for her to be wondering what's  
happening to you when you are out involved in battles that you  
may not come back from."  
  
"I'll try not to. I just wanted to help her out a little bit.   
Besides, it gives me something to do and gets me off this ship."   
{Plus I think I'm falling head over heels in love with her.}  
  
"Be careful."  
  
"I will."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
It had been almost four days since Tom Paris had stepped foot  
into Mroki's Place. This time he entered the establishment not  
following a pair of women in, but in search of one who he knew  
was there. He had worked long hours loading freight for one of  
the local transport companies. It had been hard work without the  
benefit of anti-grav devices but it had been worth it, the job  
paid very well. With his right hand, he patted the money pouch  
beneath his shirt, and with the radiometric converter tucked  
under his left arm all wrapped in brightly colored paper, Tom  
poked his head through the door. Allowing his eyes to adjust to  
the darkness, he scanned the room for B'Elanna. Not seeing her,  
he wove his way around the tables and headed toward the bar.   
  
Alini spotted the Paris, and made a bee-line in his direction.  
  
"Uliz! Uliz!" she called out   
  
Tom turned at the sound, only to see the woman B'Elanna had  
referred to as Alini approach him. She was alluring, dressed in  
a skin-tight purple dress that emphasized her assets. Long,  
golden hair hung down past her derriere in soft curls. She was  
the woman many men dreamed about--and she knew it.  
  
"Welcome, Uliz," Alini purred seductively. The words dripped off  
her tongue cooly, but their meaning was full of heat.  
  
"Uliz?" The word didn't translate over his Maquis commbadge.  
  
"Um, Uliz, is the name of one of the ancient Palmat gods," Alini  
explained in a husky voice placing one well-manicured hand on his  
upper arm. "He was the well-endowed God of Fertility." She  
tilted her head upward and lustily smiled at the pilot.  
  
Tom blushed and tried to move to avoid the bold blonde. He had  
come here to see B'Elanna not be accosted by one of the hourly  
whores. Alini stood firm through and pressed one long, purple  
painted nail up against the pilot's chest and continued her  
explanation. "Most of us no longer worship this god, but when we  
call someone by his name, it's considered a high honor. In  
fact..." She leaned up against the tall man, her voluptuous  
breasts pressed against his chest. "Because you remind me of  
Uliz, I'd be willing to let you sample my *talents* for free."  
Alini's eyes were heavy with lust.   
  
"Hey, I'm flattered, really I am. It isn't everyday I get called  
by a god's name." Tom laughed nervously. "But I'm just not  
interested."  
  
"Not interested? There are men that would pay dearly for what  
I'm willing to give you!" Alini replied indigently. Tom could  
tell that Alini wasn't used to hearing the word 'no' and it  
pleased him.  
  
"Look, I appreciate the offer, really I do," Tom remarked. Last  
thing he wanted to was to create an ugly scene that might reflect  
badly on B'Elanna.  
  
The blonde wasn't about to give up. "Are you here to see *her*?"  
she asked. Alini pointed toward the bar where B'Elanna now stood  
watching the exchange between the pair.  
  
"Yes. Yes, I am."  
  
"I don't understand. What do you see in that half-blood?" she  
sneered. "When you could have me?"  
  
Tom bent his head down, his lips just centimeters from Alini's  
face. "I see a woman that is more beautiful inside and out than  
you'll ever be." Alini froze, not only from the words the tall  
man spoke, but because the cold, blunt way they were delivered.   
It sent a shiver down her spine.   
  
Grasping her upper arm firmly with his free hand, he forcefully  
pushed the stunned woman aside so he could pass.  
  
Tom Paris walked determinedly up to the woman that waited for him  
at the bar. "B'Elanna, you're going on a break," he stated.   
"Let's get out of here. And you..." The pilot turned a little  
to his right where the bartender stood. "...will let this lady  
take her break without any interruptions. I'll bring her back  
when either she or I am damned good and ready." The bartender  
nodded, too stunned to speak. "If Mroki has any problems with  
this..." Tom pulled out his leather money bag, and carefully  
pulled out several luma and threw them on the bar. "...you can  
tell her that I've paid for the privilege."  
  
With the box still tucked under his elbow, he held out his free  
hand. B'Elanna placed her own hand in it. Leaving the bar, the  
pair left behind a bewildered looking bartender and one very  
jealous prostitute.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
"Where should we go?" B'Elanna asked once they had left the bar.  
  
"Any place," Tom replied. "As long as it's away from here and  
out of the sun." Warm winds whipped around his tall body,  
slapping the gauze-thin, tan-colored trousers against his skin.   
He'd learned shortly after his first excursion on the planet, and  
after one very painful sunburn, not to wear shorts.  
  
Kicking up dust clouds as they walked, a smile broke out on  
B'Elanna's face.  
  
"I think I know just the place," she remarked. Grabbing his  
hand, she pulled Tom along after her.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"You'll see."  
  
B'Elanna dragged him through the throngs of people that were  
making their own way through the streets, until she stopped in  
front of a small store. Telling Tom to wait outside, she went  
in. Ignoring the circular motions the store owner and other  
patrons made when their hands, B'Elanna quickly selected several  
items, paying for them with a few hard-earned luma. With a wary  
eye, the clerk placed the items in a cloth bag, handing  
everything back to her. Grateful to have her business concluded,  
B'Elanna joined Tom outside once more.  
  
"Whatcha got in the sack?" Tom asked motioning to the bag  
B'Elanna had slung over her right shoulder.  
  
The half-Klingon grinned. "What do *you* have in *that*  
package?" B'Elanna pointed to the gift Tom still carried under  
his arm."  
  
"You first."  
  
"You'll find out later."   
  
"You're cruel"  
  
"I am," she agreed. "Come on, follow me. The quicker we get  
there, the sooner you'll find out."  
  
"Get where?" Tom asked following the engineer down the street.  
  
"You'll see soon enough."   
  
B'Elanna held out her left hand which Paris gripped tightly with  
his right and she pulled him along after her. B'Elanna led the  
way through throngs of pedestrians until she finally slipped  
between two vacant buildings. Skirting around the piles of  
rubble that lay between the structures, they finally entered a  
worn path and that led to a sandy area strewn with large  
boulders, leaving the city behind. B'Elanna led them on for  
several more minutes before finally coming to a stop.   
  
"Is this it?" Tom asked, looking at the boulders that surrounded  
them. It didn't look like much.  
  
"Almost. It's just ahead, but first I want you to close your  
eyes."  
  
"My eyes?"  
  
"For me?"  
  
{Anything for you.} Tom did as bid and shut both eyes.  
  
"Now keep them closed," she cautioned. He nodded, and they  
continued on.  
  
Soon he began to hear sounds. It was the wind he determined, for  
it just couldn't be...  
  
"Okay, you can open them!"  
  
Opening his eyes, Tom's face broke into a huge grin. Before the  
pair, weaving around a few large boulders which provided some  
protection from the suns' rays, was a wide, clear, blue stream.  
  
"Where'd you find this?" Tom asked. He placed his package on the  
ground and dropped to his knees near the stream's edge so he  
could touch the water with his outstretched hand. He was happy  
to discover that the water--unlike most of Palmat--was  
delightfully cool to the touch.  
  
B'Elanna placed her bag on the ground as well and joined him.   
She was thrilled to see how happy he was. "Actually, it was  
quite by accident. I was out looking for sources of raw  
dilithium for my ship when I stumbled across this stream. I'm  
really glad that you like it."  
  
"Oh, I do. Very much."  
  
"I thought we could have a little picnic here," B'Elanna  
explained. Reaching into the bag, she withdrew a piece of cloth  
which she unfolded and spread on the ground.  
  
"Sounds wonderful, what can I do?"  
  
"Well while I prepare the food, you could open the wine." she  
took a square bottle from the satchel and passed it to Tom along  
with a bottle opener.  
  
"Sure. No problem."  
  
While the pilot worked on opening the wine bottle, B'Elanna took  
out the food she had purchased--some fruit, cheese, and several  
small loaves of a dark bread, as well as a pair of long-stemmed  
wineglasses that had been carefully wrapped in strips of cloth.  
  
With a pop, Tom opened the bottle. Sitting down beside her, he  
began filling the glasses. Placing the bottle down, he passed  
one of the wineglasses to B'Elanna and picked up the second for  
himself.  
  
Taking the glass, B'Elanna smiled up at the pilot from her seated  
position. She then brought it to her lips.  
  
"Wait a minute, B'Elanna," Tom called out. "I think this calls  
for a toast."  
  
"A toast?"  
  
"Yes." Tom shut his eyes momentarily, while he thought of the  
right words to say that would reflect his feelings for his  
companion. Satisfied he opened them. Clearing his throat and  
raising his glass he began. "To B'Elanna, to the diamond in the  
rough I found on a wayward planet in the middle of nowhere. I  
hope that we're always able to find each other." Extending his  
arm, he clinked his glass with hers. "Your turn."  
  
"My turn?"   
  
Tom nodded.  
  
B'Elanna pulled her glass towards her and fingered the rim with  
her index finger, contemplating what to say. Finally, she held  
her glass up, the suns' rays shone through the rose-colored  
liquid. "To Tom," she began and smiled at him warmly before she  
continued. "Just a short while ago, he entered my life and my  
world and made me shine with a happiness I haven't felt in a long  
time."   
  
Tom's lips curled upwards--not only at the compliment, but at the  
fact that B'Elanna felt sure enough of herself and him to voice  
her thoughts.   
  
"I hope we never lose touch with each other for..." She paused  
briefly and swallowed down a lump in her throat. "...for if I  
lost you, I would be losing my one true friend. I treasure our  
friendship." She reached out and touched her glass with his.   
Bringing their glasses to their lips they drank the alien wine,  
sealing the toast.  
  
"That was lovely," he murmured, placing the glass down on the  
ground. Leaning forward he cupped the back of her head with his  
hand. Pulling her toward him, he brushed his lips against hers.   
Retreating slightly, he looked into her deep soulful brown eyes  
and saw the sincerity that existed within her. He kissed her one  
more time, tasting the wine on her lips, but as far as Tom was  
concerned B'Elanna lips were sweeter. He then settled back to  
his seated position. "Very nice," he declared. "Not too sweet or  
too dry. It's a perfect selection." {Am I referring to the wine  
or the woman? Maybe both}   
  
B'Elanna drank again before she replied. "Actually, it was the  
only wine they had that was within my price range that wasn't  
made from fermented fungi."  
  
Tom laughed until his eyes watered. Wiping away the moisture he  
raised his glass in her honor. "B'Elanna, that's one thing I  
love about you is your honesty. I salute you." He raised his  
glass in her honor and drank again.  
  
{Love? Figure of speech right?} B'Elanna smiled.   
  
Paris could tell that she was uncomfortable with the compliment.   
  
Time for a change of topic. "Cheese?" she asked. "Maybe with a  
slice of bread?"  
  
He nodded and accepted the cheese and bread from her. "Tell me  
more about yourself, B'Elanna."   
  
B'Elanna nibbled on a small piece of cheese that she had wrapped  
in a slice of the dark bread. She looked up at him. "Me? I've  
already told you about me. I think it's your turn. Tell me how  
did you wind up in the Maquis?"  
  
Tom leaned back on his elbows and picked at the bread popping  
little pieces into his mouth. Lifting his gaze he saw that she  
was waiting for a response. Should he tell her? If he did, how  
much should he say? Would she judge him as dishonorable?  
  
Leaning forward, B'Elanna covered his hand with her free hand and  
squeezed.   
  
Reassured, Tom took another drink of his wine and then a large  
breath. "Well, it's a long story, B'Elanna. You might be  
bored."   
  
Picking up her wineglass, B'Elanna moved to the pilot's side. "I  
don't think you could ever bore me. So tell me...please?"  
  
Tom cleared his throat nervously. "Well it's like this, in a  
nutshell, I graduated from the Academy, got too cocky one day  
after graduation and me and three of my friends crashed into a  
little planet called Caldik Prime. I survived, they didn't. I  
blamed them at first before my conscious got the better of me and  
I finally admitted it was my fault--pilot error," Tom laughed  
humorlessly and took a large gulp of his wine before he  
continued. "So Starfleet cashiered me out of the service, and  
while I was roaming the galaxy I wound up in one stink-hole of a  
prison. It was there on a dust ball of a plant, a lot like this  
one, that my good captain found me and made me an offer I  
couldn't refuse. Next thing I know I'm here." Tilting his glass  
he drained the contents. Passing the glass to B'Elanna he moved  
to get up.   
  
B'Elanna put the glass down beside her and gripped Tom Paris by  
his shirt sleeve and pulled him back down.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" she asked.  
  
He turned to her, his eyes devoid of any happiness. "I just told  
you how dishonest I was, I can't believe you'd want me around any  
more. There is nothing honorable in what I've done, B'Elanna.   
You should just let me go, before we get any more involved."  
  
"Just because I'm half-Klingon do you think my life has been all  
honorable? Just because I have Klingon blood flowing through my  
veins doesn't mean that I behave like a traditional full-blooded  
Klingon!" B'Elanna struck her chest with her fist. "I'm a full-  
blooded woman above all else, Tom Paris. What happened in your  
past doesn't matter to me. What matters is the man I have come  
to know these last few weeks. I respect you, Tom; and I have  
come to care for you a great deal." {Could what I feel be love?   
Can it happen this soon?}   
  
Tom turned away, focusing on the stream. "You don't know what  
you are saying, B'Elanna. You don't know what I've..." He  
stopped as the words choked him. Above all else he didn't want  
to hurt this woman, a woman that had come to mean more to him  
that he ever could have imagined when he had first saw her at the  
bar. His stomach twisted at the thought that if she knew all  
there was about him, he'd never see her again. {Is this what it  
feels to fall in love? Could that have finally happened to me? I  
didn't think it was possible.} Something deep inside me told him  
to take a chance.  
  
"Well if you want to hear it, make yourself comfortable. And  
pour me another glass of wine, my throat's apt to get dry with  
all this talking."  
  
Tom sat down against one of the boulders. Seating herself beside  
him, legs tucked underneath her, B'Elanna waited for the story to  
begin.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
"So that's when you returned to Earth?" B'Elanna asked. Tom, who  
by now had shifted his position and now lay with his head on  
B'Elanna's lap, nodded.   
  
Tom had already explained his trying time growing up with his  
father scripting his every move. He'd even told her about the  
horrific accident that had resulted in the deaths of three of his  
friends, and his subsequent flight away from the scene and the  
truth. He hadn't expected the words to come to his lips so  
easily, but he found it easy and comforting talking to B'Elanna.   
He trusted her.   
  
Looking down into the pilot's blue eyes they seemed focused on  
events that had happened years ago and light-years away. B'Elanna  
brushed his hair away from his forehead with her left hand, while  
her right clutched his right hand for support. "Then what  
happened?"  
  
"I went to Starfleet and told them what had really happened. I  
explained that the accident was due to my inattention, that I  
couldn't live with the knowledge I was responsible for their  
deaths." He focused again on her searching for understanding and  
by the look on her face he knew he had found it. "I told them  
everything. How I was imagining that this practice run was  
actually a battle in space. How I pulled up at the last minute  
to avoid impacting with the planet, and how my friends didn't  
have a chance to save themselves. I-I still remember it all--  
every explosion, every stomach twisting moment." His voice  
choked. Reassuringly, B'Elanna squeezed his hand. "There-there's  
not a day that goes by that I don't think of them, B'Elanna."   
Blue locked with brown, B'Elanna could see the look of despair  
that was expressed in their ocean depths.  
  
"I believe you, Tom. It must have been just horrible."  
  
He nodded and saw that B'Elanna didn't look reviled at what he  
had told her. "If I had known you then, it wouldn't have been so  
bad. It would have been easier for me, but ..." Tom paused and  
swallowed. "...it wasn't meant to be easy. I deserved it all."  
  
B'Elanna squeezed his hand again.  
  
"After the court martial, I went back to Marseilles for a while.   
You know that bar called Sandrine's I told you about earlier?"  
  
"The one where you hustled pool and the bartender who took a  
liking to you?"  
  
"Yeah, well I was there for a few weeks when I decided to try my  
luck away from Earth. I hitched a ride on a transport ship that  
was headed for Vulcan space. It sounded interesting, until the  
ship developed problems and we ended up on a small planet. While  
I was trying to get some parts for the ship..."  
  
"Get some parts?" B'Elanna questioned.  
  
"Ok, steal some parts." She knew him too well already. "I got  
caught and thrown into their rehabilitation center."  
  
*Ahem.*  
  
"Ah, prison," Tom corrected. "Quite a lovely place, a room with  
lots of friends and all the rats you could eat--a home away from  
home. Then one day, Liberty's good captain showed up.   
Apparently, someone from the transport ship had told him that I  
was in jail. With the Maquis being desperate for good pilots,  
the Captain didn't waste any time trying to bail me out. I was a  
mess. I would have done almost anything to get out of that pit.   
All I had to do was to promise to serve with the Maquis for two  
years." Paris fought back memories of the fights, of competing  
with the others for what rotting food they were given, and when  
no food was passed out he and the others hunted for rats to gut  
and eat.   
  
B'Elanna saw the bright blue eyes cloud over again with  
unpleasant memories. "How much longer do you have to serve on  
the Liberty?"   
  
Focusing again on her, chased away the waking nightmare. "About  
ten more months. Then I'll have to make a decision--stay with  
the Maquis, or strike out on my own."  
  
"If it would get me off this planet, maybe I should join the  
Maquis? I'm sure they could use a good engineer." {It also would  
let me stay close to you.}  
  
Tom pushed himself up and looked her square in the face. "No,  
B'Elanna. It's not that I don't want you with me--believe me I  
do, but I don't want you embroiled in the Maquis battles," he  
adamantly replied. "Palmat may be a hole, but it's a safe hole.   
It's certainly better than winding up in one of those rotten  
Cardassian prison camps." He shook that terrible thought away.   
"I've heard terrible stories. I don't know what I would do if I  
found out that..."  
  
B'Elanna placed two fingers over his trembling lips to silence  
him. "Okay," she replied, "you convinced me. I won't run to the  
Maquis." She would have said anything at the moment, to prevent  
him from looking so concerned for her safety.   
  
"I'll come back for you, B'Elanna," he promised when she removed  
her fingers. "When my commitment is finished, I'll come back to  
Palmat. I'll come back to you." {Where had that come from? What  
was he saying?}  
  
B'Elanna looked stunned hearing his vow. "Tom," she whispered in  
awe not knowing what else to say.  
  
"Will you wait for me? If I come back, will you be here?"   
  
She didn't know how to respond. She didn't know what it was he  
was actually saying, or even if he knew what words were passing  
through his lips.  
  
"I don't know what the future holds, B'Elanna. But something in  
my gut tells me that my future and yours are..." He sought for  
the right word, entangling his fingers through hers. "...meshed  
together. I can't believe that we have found each other, only  
never to be reunited again. Trust in fate." Ernest blue eyes  
examined her intently.  
  
The words spoke truth to her heart and B'Elanna nodded. "I'll  
wait for you, Tom Paris. When you are finished serving with the  
Maquis, I'll be here waiting here for you to come back to me.  
  
"Good." He visibly relaxed and B'Elanna smiled. It lightened his  
mood. "Where were we?"  
  
"Now about to tell me about your time with the Maquis?"  
  
"Ah, yes. There's a lot to tell, but I think I'll save those  
stories for another time. You really don't want to hear about  
how I out flew the Cardies, do you?" he replied very  
nonchalantly.  
  
With a shove B'Elanna pushed him off her lap. "Tom Paris, you're  
a tease!" she yelled.   
  
Laughing Tom pushed himself up on his elbows and faced her.   
"It's too hot to talk, B'Elanna. We shouldn't let all this water  
go to waste. It's just crying out for someone to swim in it."   
  
"I don't know about you, Flyboy, but I didn't bring my swimsuit!"   
  
Tom stood up and began pulling off his shirt to reveal a muscular  
chest torso garnished with ginger-colored chest hair. B'Elanna's  
breath caught in her throat at the sight. he was lean and  
muscular, she observed with pleasure, but not that overly bulky  
shape that most Klingon men tried to achieve.   
  
"You do have undergarments on don't you, B'Elanna?" Tom asked as  
he unfastened his trousers.  
  
"Um..." Words failed her when she saw him slip his slacks over  
his hips and reveal his long legs and a pair of navy blue briefs.  
  
"B'Elanna, we are both adults, and it's too damn hot not to enjoy  
this moment." Tom stood before her, hands on his hips daring her  
not to join him. "Are you going swimming with me or not?"  
  
In reply to his challenge B'Elanna pulled off her top and slid  
out of her shorts to reveal a matching black bra and panties,  
along with a well toned and tanned body. Tom's mouth went dry  
and his palms began to sweat at the sight he saw before him. To  
him she was perfect not only in character and personality, but I  
also in physical appearance. B'Elanna Torres was a compact bundle  
of feminine curves and athletic suppleness. From her full  
breasts to the muscles that formed her shapely legs, Tom Paris,  
thought that he must have died and gone to heaven. Or was it  
Sto-Vo-Kor? His erotic thoughts were soon interrupted.  
  
"Last one in is a grumpy Vulcan!" B'Elanna called out playfully  
and started to sprint to the spring. Tom caught unaware, was  
soon left literally in the dust.  
  
Upon reaching the stream's edge B'Elanna launched herself into  
the air and plunged into the cool water. Feeling a surge of  
water push up against her she knew that Paris had, without  
hesitation, followed her in.   
  
Diving deep, Tom swam underneath B'Elanna. With his eyes open  
under the delightfully refreshing water, he spied a vision  
equally, if not more, refreshing. Above him she swam,  
silhouetted against the sun rays which penetrated through the  
water above. Her dark hair flowed behind her, her tresses  
swirling with the movement of the water. Propelled along  
effortlessly with her athletic body, she swam through the deep  
stream.   
  
Rising beneath her, Tom placed his hands firmly around her waist  
and rose towards the surface, his legs scissoring under him until  
he lifted her out of the water. Surfacing below her, he inhaled  
deeply, enriching his lungs with fresh oxygen before falling back  
into the water and pulling B'Elanna along with him.   
  
Feeling his hands clasped around her, B'Elanna was at first  
surprised and in the next moment elated as Tom pushed her out of  
the water. Breaking the surface, the half-Klingon breathed  
deeply before she joined him once again under the surface.  
  
Paris pulled B'Elanna's lithe body towards him under the water  
until finally she was enveloped within the circle of his arms.  
Right where she belongs he thought. He could see B'Elanna's  
laughing eyes as she focused on him, and he knew that his face  
reflected the same joy she felt. Propelling her over to where  
they had originally dove in, Tom found a perch on a shelf that  
skirted the stream. Still holding her tightly, he stood up  
bringing both their heads up out of the water.  
  
"Tom Paris you're crazy!"   
  
"Is that a complaint?" he asked, one eyebrow raised in mock  
disbelief.  
  
In response, she kissed him boldly on his mouth. Tom could hear  
a soft growl that emanated from B'Elanna's throat. It excited  
him and urged him on. Pressing back toward her, he pressed her  
body up against the edge of the stream and attacked her mouth.   
First nibbling on her lower lip before he plunged his tongue into  
her mouth.  
  
With hands encircling the pilot's waist, B'Elanna enjoyed the  
feeling of his flesh as he continued to plunder her mouth.  
  
Trailing away from the full lips, Tom worked his way across her  
cheek, and down her sensitive neck until he reached her  
shoulders. Feeling her inquisitive hands explore his back, he  
pushed aside her bra strap and kissed and licked the flesh  
underneath.   
  
Instinct drove B'Elanna on, she wanted this man like she had no  
other before. Lowering her hands, she slid them under the waist  
band of Tom's briefs.  
  
Feeling B'Elanna's hands beneath the material of his shorts  
surprised the pilot at first, but he soon realized the  
implication of her actions.   
  
"B'Elanna, if we don't stop now, there may be no going back," he  
warned.   
  
{Let's see, I received my birth control booster shot two years  
ago. Didn't I? Just before I left the Academy? Yeah, that  
sounds right. Should be good for another three or four months.}  
  
{Starfleet--yeah, just before I was cashiered. That's when I got  
my last booster. I'm protected for another few months.}  
  
Reaching down further, B'Elanna clasped his buttocks with her  
hands and squeezed, pulling him toward her. His growing erection  
pressed against her.   
  
Actions did indeed speak louder than words, Tom mused.  
  
Deftly he removed her bra and flung it on the shore, her panties  
soon followed.   
  
Following his lead, she tugged at his briefs, pushing them down  
his legs until he was able to step out of them. What followed  
was a frenzy of passion. Both lovers wanted to show how much  
pleasure they were capable of giving the other. Like a wild  
tiger B'Elanna growled encouraging the pilot on to excite her  
more. With guttural cries of his own, the pilot sang his song of  
fulfillment.  
  
* * * *  
  
Afterwards lying unashamedly nude in the shade of one of the  
boulders, B'Elanna reflected on what had occurred in the water.   
With her head pillowed on the sleeping pilot's shoulder, B'Elanna  
lazily ran her fingers through his still damp chest hair.   
  
A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled Tom's words to her.   
Warning her that they still had time to stop if she wanted to.   
Her reply had been to simply curl her legs around his waist and  
join with him. His eyes had opened wide in both surprise and  
pleasure as she impaled herself on his manhood.   
  
What had followed had been amazing--amazing and loud. Both had  
cried out as they climaxed; him loud and primeval, and her a loud  
growl that emanated deep within her body.   
  
Trini had once told her when both partners experience their peak  
of passion at the same time it was a sign of sexual  
compatibility. If that was true, B'Elanna mused, then she and  
Tom Paris were *extremely* compatible. And if the Klingon  
traditions were to be believed, the bite that she had given him  
on his cheek just before the moment of release meant that the two  
of them were more that just two people in need of sexual  
satisfaction. According to Klingon tradition, they were mated.   
She'd have no other mate as long as she lived. But that was  
something she wasn't going to reveal to him. With a light touch  
she traced the crescent mark her teeth had made in his skin,  
careful not to wake him. B'Elanna Torres wasn't going to be the  
one to tie this pilot down, she vowed, she'd wait until he made  
that decision. The half-Klingon grinned at the thought and  
drifted off to sleep.  
  
In his dreams, Tom Paris relived their union in the stream. He  
recalled how he'd been amazed when B'Elanna took the initiative  
to become one with him. Rocking against her, she had met each  
thrust with her own. When he neared his release he tottered on  
the edge of ecstasy, and when his lover punctuated her own  
pending climax with a bite on his shoulder, his toppled over into  
exquisite fulfillment. His ecstasy of their union shook him to  
the core of his soul, and he knew that he had found the woman of  
his dreams. A woman that he could carve a future with, if fate  
would allow. Smiling in his sleep, his arms tightened around  
B'Elanna.   
  
End Chapter 3  
  
Click here to transport to Chapter 4 - Afterglow 


	5. Afterglow

  
CHAPTER 4 - AFTERGLOW  
  
~~~~But he had always told the truth   
~~~~Lord, he was an honest man   
~~~~And Brandy does her best to understand.  
  
Early in the morning, just as the sky was lightening, a happy Tom  
Paris approached the Liberty. Normally at this time of the  
morning, the ship would be quiet. Instead, he found a hive of  
activity.   
  
"Bout time you showed up!" Param called out.   
  
Tom looked over to see the young Bajoran had his arms full of  
cables and jogged over and relieved Param of some of his burden.   
"What do you mean?" the pilot asked. "What's going on?"  
  
"If you had been around, you would have known. Chakotay has  
ordered us to prepare to leave the planet by this time tomorrow."  
  
"Tomorrow?! I thought we had a least another week?"  
  
"Apparently we've received word from the front that they need our  
assistance," Param told Tom.  
  
"Where's the Captain?"  
  
"Last I knew he was down in engineering. Why?"  
  
Tom passed his armload back to Param, who almost stumbled under  
the return of the weight. "There's some business I have to  
attend to. I'll be back in time, don't worry."  
  
* * * * *  
  
B'Elanna was just getting back to the bar when some of the  
overnight guest were leaving. Alini and Trini in the hall  
upstairs bid their customers goodbye with lazy kisses. When the  
men pulled away from them, the women noticed B'Elanna heading  
toward her room at the end of the hall.   
  
"Late night, Torres?" Alini called out, one hand on her hip.  
  
B'Elanna's lips curled upward slightly, but she didn't comment.  
  
"You go out with that pilot again, B'Elanna?" Trini asked,  
ignoring the sullen expression on the other prostitute's face.   
"What'd you do this time, to be coming back so late?" Her voice  
left little doubt as to what she expected the pair had done.  
  
B'Elanna remained silent while she struggled with the door's  
ancient locking system. Meanwhile, Alini had moved closer to  
her, placing her arm across the doorway to bar B'Elanna from  
entering the room. Alini was either brave or stupid B'Elanna  
assumed the latter.  
  
"Yes, little engineer, what did you do? Engage in mad,  
passionate sex under the stars?" Ani teased, not knowing how  
close to the truth she was.  
  
B'Elanna turned to them. "If you must know, we had a picnic and  
swam in a stream." She turned back to the door to work with the  
lock. "Then we had mad, passionate sex under the stars."  
  
Trini smiled, and Alini scowled.   
  
"I don't believe it," Alini remarked.  
  
"What don't you believe? That we made love, not that you'd know  
anything about making love as opposed to having sex, or that we  
went swimming?" B'Elanna challenged.  
  
Alini spun on her heel away from B'Elanna's door and back toward  
her own room.   
  
"Good for you, B'Elanna. It's good to see you happy, and it's  
good to hear someone speak back to Alini," Trini replied. "Your  
pilot seems like a nice man."  
  
B'Elanna nodded. "Yes, he is." She tucked the present Tom had  
given her under her arm and opened her door. (How many men,  
would think to buy their girl a radiometric converter instead of  
flowers?}  
  
* * * * * *  
  
"Open up!" Tom Paris yelled, pounding on the heavy wooden door.   
  
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" someone from inside finally called out.   
"Keep the noise down!" The door creaked open to reveal a small  
man who had obviously been aroused from a heavy sleep. His dark  
hair was in wild array and he needed a shave. "Tom Paris, what  
are you doing here?"  
  
"Our ship has been given orders to depart by this evening. I've  
come for my pay," Tom explained.  
  
"At this hour?"  
  
"I didn't want to wake you, but I won't have another chance to  
come."  
  
"Gobo, come back to bed!" a woman's voice cried out.  
  
"I'll be up soon, desert blossom!" he called out. Gobo smiled  
and shrugged. "My wife's insatiable. What can I say?"  
  
"I know what you mean," Tom replied knowingly.  
  
"You know my wife!?!?" The little man's eyes lit with rage.  
  
"Oh, no, no." the pilot reassured him hands raised. "It's just  
that I've met a woman like that. They are a rare treasure. You  
are a fortunate man."  
  
Gobo smiled his chest swelled with pride and nodded his dark head  
knowingly. His anger forgotten. "What is it you want, Tom  
Paris?"  
  
"I told you, my pay. We have to pull out tonight, and I have  
plans for the money."  
  
"GOBO!"  
  
"I'm coming, dearest!"   
  
"I'll be right back, Tom Paris. Wait here." True to his word,  
Gobo came back with a pouch of luma. "Here you go, my friend,  
and you'll notice that I added a little extra as a bonus because  
you've worked so hard. I wish you well, and if you ever are  
looking for any more work, please come see me."  
  
"I will. Thanks!"  
  
"GOBO!!!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Tom's next stop was at one of the kiosks that he and B'Elanna had  
visited during their night at the cafe. He recalled that at the  
time she had paid particular attention to a braided chain of fine  
Palmat silver. If he was going to leave, Tom thought, he was  
going to make sure that B'Elanna had something to remember him  
by, and he knew that this necklace was the perfect gift. Paris  
was also aware that according to Klingon tradition*, that a gift  
of adornment could be considered a commitment to the future. It  
would be fitting he thought considering the bite she had given  
him the night before. He knew to a Klingon what a bite on the  
face signified. Remembering the moment, he fingered the bite  
mark as he approached the kiosk. As he neared, he noticed the  
owner of the kiosk was just setting up for the morning's  
business.   
  
"Good morning, friend, can I help you?" the owner called out.  
  
Tom looked up at the thin man.  
  
"I think so, I was here with my friend the other day and she was  
particularly fond of a silver necklace you had on display," the  
pilot explained.  
  
"Your friend, she was the one with the..." he motioned toward his  
forehead.  
  
"Yeah, what of it?" Tom jingled his money bag to signify that he  
intended to do important business. Even with the Palmat's  
superstitions, they valued money almost as much as a Ferengi.  
  
"Nothing...nothing at all, it's just that I remember when she  
came in," he explained reaching over to one of the display cases.   
"I think she was looking at this one." He withdrew a long,  
braided silver necklace and held it up for inspection.   
  
Tom admired the quality workmanship. "It's beautiful."  
  
"Made from the finest silver. It'll never tarnish or lose its  
shine."  
  
Tom took the chain from the other man's hands. It was perfect.   
"How much?"  
  
"Twenty-five luma."  
  
"Eighteen," Tom countered.  
  
"Twenty-two."  
  
"Twenty-one and you throw in that holo-locket." Tom pointed to a  
oval locket that was displayed in another case.   
  
"It's a deal. You drive a hard bargain, stranger. Lucky for you  
it's so early in the morning. I'm not so relenting in the  
afternoon."  
  
Tom laughed. "Thanks, I hope she'll like it."  
  
"She will, after all it'll be a gift from you."  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Chakotay walked onto the bridge and noted that preparations were  
well underway. At this rate, he mused, they'd depart ahead of  
schedule. But where was their pilot? "Param," he called out,  
"Where's Paris?"  
  
"Paris?"  
  
"Yeah...you know...our pilot."  
  
"I saw him briefly this morning. He said something about  
unfinished business, but he said that he'd be back before we  
left. We tried to raise him on his commbadge, but we have having  
problems with communications."  
  
"Well this ship isn't waiting any longer for him to return.  
There's still work to be done. Param, you and Nicholls go find  
Romeo."  
  
"Aye, sir. Ah, sir?  
  
"Yes, Param?"  
  
"Who's Romeo?"  
  
* * * * * *  
  
B'Elanna was just entering the bar when she saw Tom Paris come  
through the entrance.   
  
"B'Elanna, I have to talk to you!" he called out.  
  
She approached him. "Now?"  
  
"There's no time." He grabbed her hand and pulled B'Elanna along  
after him, out of the bar.  
  
"What's so important?" she asked.  
  
"We've been ordered back to the front," Tom explained.  
  
"So soon? I thought you had another week or so before you had to  
leave?" B'Elanna couldn't disguise the disappointment in her  
voice.  
  
"Me too." Tom's tone of voice reflected his own sadness. "The  
war must be heating up. By this time tomorrow we'll be gone, and  
I knew if I didn't see you now, I might not have another  
opportunity before we left."  
  
"I'm glad you were able to find the time."  
  
Tom dug into an inner shirt pocket and pulled out a small box.   
"I didn't want to leave before I gave you this."  
  
"But you already gave me the converter last night." she argued.  
  
"That was for your ship. This is for you," he explained and  
placed the box in her hands. "Open it."  
  
With trembling hands, B'Elanna removed the blue paper that  
covered the oblong box and then pried open the box. In the  
morning sunlight, the necklace that lay inside sparkled brightly.   
Looking up she saw how the pilot's eyes shone in anticipation of  
her reaction.  
  
"You shouldn't have, Tom."  
  
"I just wish I could have done more."  
  
"It's lovely. It's the one that I was looking at after we went  
to the cafe."  
  
"I know," he replied. "Let me help you put it on."  
  
"No."  
  
"No?"   
  
B'Elanna closed the box. "I can't keep this. It's not that I  
don't love it--I do. It's just..."  
  
"Symbolic."  
  
{He knew? If he knew of the significance of this gift, he might  
know about the bite.} That's why I can't keep it," she explained  
holding the box out to Tom for him to take. "In Klingon  
tradition, this is equivalent to an engagement ring."  
  
"Oh, I know," he remarked and pushed the box back into her hands.   
"I also know that when a Klingon bites someone on the face, it  
means that they claim that person as their mate."  
  
Brown eyes widened "I can't hold you to a promise of this  
magnitude," B'Elanna replied. "I won't do it. I bit you in the  
heat of passion. I just..."  
  
"Responded instinctively. Something inside of you--probably your  
Klingon side--knew that we are meant to be," Tom clarified.   
"Almost from the first time I saw you, I knew that you were  
something special. That you were someone that would always be  
part of me." Tom took the box from her hands and removed the  
necklace, and slipped the long chain over her dark head.   
Carefully he adjusted the locket so it lay properly against her  
stomach. He knew the chain was long when it bought it, but  
didn't know how long it would be on B'Elanna's petite frame until  
she actually wore it. It looked wonderful, he thought.   
  
"I'll wear it proudly," B'Elanna vowed.  
  
"And I'll proudly wear this." Tom touched the scar that was  
starting to form on his cheek.  
  
"I'll wait for you, Tom Paris."  
  
"And I'll return, I promise." The pilot cradled her face between  
his palms memorizing her exquisite features. "Kiss me, B'Elanna.   
I have to go before the Captain sends someone looking for me.   
I'm in enough trouble as it is."  
  
Needing no further prompting, B'Elanna stood up on her toes, and  
encircled her arms around the pilot's neck. Their lips crushed  
together and their tongues entangled, each wanting to make this  
goodbye kiss a lasting memory, for both knew that it might be a  
very long time before they were together again.   
  
Breaking from the kiss, Tom looked down on B'Elanna once more.   
She smiled bravely and he returned the grin looking very  
satisfied with himself, like he had just made an important  
decision. Lowering his head to hers once again, he avoided her  
swollen lips and instead tilted her face to one side and deftly  
bit her cheek.  
  
B'Elanna was surprised at Tom's action and her hand flew up to  
her cheek to assess the damage. She never had expected him to  
mark her--to visually declare that she was his mate.  
  
"Your blood is as sweet as the rest of you, B'Elanna Torres. I  
wish I had time to taste the rest of you." A movement in the  
crowded street made Paris look up and he spotted a couple of  
Maquis amongst the mob. "I'd like to stay, but I have to go.   
Looks like the Captain has sent out the posse to bring me back."  
  
B'Elanna nodded.   
  
"I promise we'll be together again--and B'Elanna, after I'm gone  
open the locket."  
  
The half-Klingon's hands grasped the pendant.  
  
"Not now," he warned, "later."  
  
He kissed her again, this time lightly on the lips and in the  
next instant he was gone, blending into the crowd before the pair  
of Maquis could spot him.  
  
Alone now, B'Elanna turned to face away from the crowd and pried  
open the locket with trembling fingers. Cradling the heavier  
half in her palm, she pressed a small button in the center of the  
locket. Immediately a small hologram of Tom Paris appeared above  
the button. The little hologram smiled softly, and even in this  
diminished size, B'Elanna noticed the sparkle of the pilot's blue  
eyes. Looking at her, the hologram spoke: "B'Elanna, I know  
we'll be together again, I can feel it inside me." The  
hologram's hand pressed against his chest. "Until then, trust in  
fate and remember that I love you. I love you only and always."   
The hologram then blew her a kiss before it finally disappeared.  
  
"Oh, Tom," B'Elanna breathed, and a tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Fingers danced over the helm as Tom Paris readied the Liberty for  
take-off. By now, he thought, B'Elanna would have seen the  
hologram. He was glad that the jewelry shop owner had talked him  
into buying this option--it was worth every luma.  
  
End Chapter 4  
  
Click here to transport to Chapter 5 - Repercussions 


	6. Repercussion

CHAPTER 5 - REPERCUSSIONS  
  
~~~~Brandy walks through a silent town   
~~~~And loves a man who's not around  
  
Two months later...  
  
Flying away from Palmat in her little ship, B'Elanna's hand crept  
to her abdomen. She patted her growing stomach in the circular  
motion she had grown accustomed to since she found out she was  
carrying Tom Paris' child.  
  
At first B'Elanna had been surprised to find this unexpected  
gift. She could have sworn that she was still protected from  
pregnancy.  
  
She remembered the initial shock she felt when she received the  
news from Mroki's physician. Recalling the last time she had  
received her birth control booster, she realized that she had  
miscalculated. It was hard to think straight, when your world  
was being turned upside down with hot and cold chills that felt  
so damn good!   
  
Her being pregnant though wasn't the reason for her departure  
from Palmat. True to her word, she had planned on staying on the  
planet until Tom could come for her--but the Cardassian's had  
changed that.  
  
About a month ago, the spoon-heads had attacked Palmat, thinking  
it was a Maquis base. For over two weeks, they fired on the  
planet. When they were through, thousands of people lay dead,  
and many buildings were demolished--including Mroki's bar.   
  
In the lull that followed the attack, B'Elanna decided, for the  
safety of their child, she should leave before the Cardassians  
returned to finish the job they started.  
  
That's how she came to find herself flying through this region of  
space, trying to avoid the Cardassians and find the Maquis, and  
hopefully Tom Paris.  
  
B'Elanna carefully watched her sensor readings and stayed away  
from the heavier traveled trading lanes. And when it was time for  
her to sleep she would find an asteroid or a moon to hide behind.  
  
On her fourth day in space, B'Elanna picked up a strong signal  
that was closing fast upon her. There was no doubt about it, it  
was Cardassian, and it appeared to be zeroed in on her.  
  
Should she try and outrun it? If she did, when they caught up  
with her what would they do? B'Elanna had seen Alini and some of  
the other prostitutes play innocent and how they got away with  
it. Perhaps, if all else failed, this one time it would work for  
her. It not, the dagger she slipped into her boot, would give  
her a fighting advantage. So she maintained course and waited  
and prayed.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
"Cap'n, Cardies' are closing on our position!"  
  
Chakotay who had been seated at the helm, covering for the  
missing pilot, nodded. His fingers tapped out commands on the  
console.  
  
"I see it," The Captain replied. "Changing course to vector  
three point two."  
  
At times like this, he could cheerfully strangle Tom Paris for  
running out on them, when he was suppose to bring back help.  
  
"Tuvok, raise the shields and prepare to ready the phasers."   
{Paris had better pray that I never lay eyes on him again. But  
at least I found the Vulcan. He almost makes up for the loss of  
the pilot--too bad his speciality is weaponry and not flying.}  
  
"Aye, Captain."  
  
"Gerron looked up from the sensor array. "Cap'n, I don't think  
the Cardies have spotted us yet."  
  
"Explain." Chakotay barked. His fingers still keyed in commands  
to the helm.  
  
"There's another ship, sir," the young Bajoran said. "It's very  
small--a three- to four-person shuttle at the most."  
  
"Can you determine the origin of the ship, Tuvok?" Chakotay asked  
addressing the Vulcan.   
  
Tuvok analyzed the vessel carefully before he replied. "The  
vessel is constructed of various parts of other ships, sir--some  
are Terran, Betazoid, Romulan, as well as others I cannot  
identify without further analysis."  
  
"Any information on the crew?"  
  
"Sensors are identifying only one person on the ship." Gerron  
piped up. He looked toward Chakotay to gauge the older man's  
reaction. "A Klingon-Human hybrid female."  
  
Chakotay eyebrows shot up, Klingon-Human hybrids were rare, but  
either way it was very likely that this woman wasn't an ally of  
the Cardassians.   
  
"Time until the Cardie's catch up with her?" The Captain asked.  
  
Tuvok answered. "At their present rate of speed, forty-two  
minutes, and tw..."  
  
"Hail her on a secure channel and raise that cloaking device,"  
Chakotay ordered interrupting the Vulcan. At least Paris had  
accomplished something before he left, Chakotay mused. He had  
obtained a slightly used, Romulan cloaking device during a card  
game on Ferenginar. Of course, the damn thing wasn't one hundred  
percent compatible with the Liberty and would only work for short  
periods of time.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"I'm not about to leave a woman or anyone else, alone to fend for  
themselves against those bastards, Geron. Even if I have to use  
the cloak, the Maquis didn't sign the Treaty of Algeron. I just  
hope it will stay working until we can rescue her."  
  
Gerron nodded. "Channel open, Cap'n, audio only though."  
  
"Small ship, this is the Liberty. You appear to be in imminent  
danger."  
  
{The Liberty? It's Tom's ship!}  
  
B'Elanna adjusted her communication system to scramble her  
message before replying. "Yes, I am. You couldn't have come at  
a better time. This is the..." B'Elanna had yet to think of a  
name for her ship, but now she said the first thing that crossed  
her mind...Well actually the first thing she thought of was Tom,  
but Tom for some reason made her think of pigs...little pink  
piglets were so adorable, just like him....and pigs made her  
think of... "Liberty, this is the Targ."  
  
"Targ, do you require assistance?"  
  
"I would greatly appreciate any help you could give me."  
  
"Stay on course toward us and raise your shields. We'll be with  
you in..." he looked over toward the Vulcan.  
  
Tuvok supplied the answer. "Fifty-one minutes, twenty-seven  
seconds..."  
  
"Do you have weapons?" Chakotay asked.  
  
"Some."  
  
"Try not to use them. Your best bet is to try and stall the  
Cardassians. Use your shields, but firing on them might just get  
you killed. It looks they'll arrive before we do. But hold on,  
we'll do everything we can to rescue you."  
  
"Thank you, Liberty, Targ out."   
  
Out of habit, B'Elanna activated the Targ's shields, but they  
offered little, if any protection, and she readied the Targ's  
weapons just in case. That was if you could call two small  
phaser banks that barely had enough power between them to  
replicate a cup of coffee weapons. Then she waited, she didn't  
have to wait long before she was contacted.   
  
"Unmarked vessel, this is Gul Arkaq, identify yourself, Klingon."  
  
"This is the Targ. I'm on personal business. I have nothing of  
value."  
  
Arkaq waived away her explanation with a flick of his scaley  
hand. This woman looked interesting. According to their sensor  
scans she had Klingon blood flowing in her veins--while she was  
not a full blooded Klingon from the image of her that was  
displayed on the view screen-- she looked like she possessed a  
fiery spirit. "Young lady, whether or not you have anything of  
value doesn't matter to me. Be prepared to surrender when we get  
within range." The look on the Cardie captain's face was  
lecherous. He nodded to his communications officer to terminate  
contact. Easing his long frame out of the command chair, he  
stood proud and tall.   
  
"I don't want her harmed," Arkaq informed his crew. "After we  
disable her ship, beam her and her ship aboard."  
  
The transporters still aren't functioning at full capacity," one  
of the junior officers noted. Since their run-in with two Maquis  
ships the day before, a repair crew had been working around the  
clock trying to repair the damage. "Her shields are faltering so  
we should be able to beam an away team over with no problem. But  
it will take several minutes for the transporters to recharge  
before we can attempt to use them again to beam anyone back. We  
also can't fire on the shields any more without risk of injury to  
the female."  
  
"Then I'll lead the away team.," Gul Arkaq remarked. "You  
two..." He motioned with a flip of his finger to two strong  
soldiers. "..are with me. Remember, I want her alive," he  
reminded his second in command just before he left the bridge.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The Targ's shields were weakening, and ever so surely, the  
Cardie's ship was getting closer. Any moment now, they'd either  
beam her aboard their ship or board hers, she mused. From her  
position, seated casually on her precious trunk, one hand clasped  
to her locket, and other stroking her slightly swollen abdomen,  
she waited. Waited to play a game she had never played before.   
Just how innocent could a half-Klingon appear to be, she  
wondered. She was about to find out.  
  
* * * * * *   
  
As the sedative started to wear off, Tom Paris woke up. From the  
look of the now familiar ceiling, he knew exactly where he was--  
the infirmary. In the next moment, he remembered how he got here  
this time. He'd been on a clean-up detail in the New Zealand  
forests with several other members of the penal colony when he  
was pushed from behind. He recalled tumbling down a steep hill,  
end over end, before finally coming to stop at the bottom, thanks  
to the trunk of a tree being between him and a pile of rocks.   
  
"Mr. Paris, I see that you're awake." The perennial cheerful  
voice of the colony's physician greeted the pilot.  
  
Tom tried to move his right arm so he could pull himself up  
further on the biobed, but found that it wouldn't move. "What'd  
I do this time, Doc?"  
  
The doctor circled the biobed and began to remove some of the  
instruments he had used to treat the convict. "Compound fracture  
of your elbow and a fractured scapula. I've immobilized your arm  
while the auto-osteo regenerator* can heal you."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"It shouldn't be too much longer before you can leave. I've  
already healed all your other injuries."  
  
{My other injuries?!} Tom's left hand flew up to his cheek. It  
was gone! His scar was no longer there! "What did you do?!" he  
cried out. The guard who stood by the entrance to the infirmary  
stepped closer, only returning to his post by the door after the  
doctor waved him off.  
  
"I figured while you were sedated, and since you were my only  
patient for a change, I'd do a thorough job. After I healed all  
your recent injuries, I took care of that bite mark on your  
cheek," he explained. Holding up a mirror, Doctor Lawson let Tom  
Paris take a look at his newly healed face. "You look as good as  
new--maybe even better." The physician was clearly proud of his  
accomplishment.  
  
"Put it back!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said, put it back!"  
  
"I-I can't do that. Besides, why would you want me to  
intentionally scar you?"  
  
"I really don't...not you anyway. But that particular scar had  
sentimental significance."  
  
"A scar has sentimental significance?"  
  
"It was more than just a scar, Doc." Tom signed and ran his  
fingers of his left had through his hair in frustration. "Are  
you familiar with Klingon ritual?"  
  
"Klingon? Well somewhat," Lawson admitted. "But what does that  
have to do with anything? You're not Klingon."  
  
"No, I'm not...but she is...well half is."  
  
"She?"  
  
"My mate. The scar was the only thing I have left to remember  
her by."  
  
"I had no idea," the doctor admitted sadly. "I'm very sorry that  
she died."  
  
"She's not dead...but being in here, I don't know when I'll ever  
see her again. She doesn't even know where I am. If I have many  
more accidents like this, I might not survive until my sentence  
is complete."  
  
The doctor placed the last of his instruments in the storage tray  
and pulled a chair up next to the biobed. Since Tom Paris had  
been sent to Auckland, he'd become a frequent visitor to the  
infirmary. Sometimes the injuries were as simple as over-  
exposure to the sun. Other times, the damage done to his body  
was decidedly suspicious. During the short time Tom had been at  
the colony, Lawson had gotten to know the young pilot and found  
he liked him.  
  
"What if I could get you to work in here?" Lawson asked.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I should be able to arrange with the warden to have you work  
some time during the week in the infirmary. I'm always on the  
lookout for someone bright to help me in here, but not many of  
the inmates are interested. To be honest, most of them I  
wouldn't want in here, but I've noticed on your records that  
you've had some medical training at the Academy."  
  
"I just took a couple..."  
  
"That's more than most," the Doctor replied cutting him off in  
mid-sentence. "If you're interested, I'll put in a request so  
you can assist me when you aren't required to work in the motor  
fleet repair bay."  
  
Tom pursed his lips in thought, and nodded once. "I might be."  
  
"You won't just be stocking shelves, mind you. I'd expect you to  
learn on the job."  
  
"Learn what?"  
  
"Well we'll start with emergency medicine and anatomy and work  
our way up from there."  
  
"One of those trades I can use on the outside?  
  
"It's part of any work program here at the penal colony."  
  
"But, I'm a pilot," Tom argued.  
  
"Being cross-trained as a medic couldn't hurt, Mr. Paris. Who  
knows, it just might come in handy some day. Besides you get to  
partake of my razor wit and musical talents. I plan the best  
fiddle this side of Nashville," Lawson boasted.  
  
Tom laughed. "Okay, Doc. You've got a deal."  
  
Tom held out his free hand and the doctor shook it firmly.   
"You've got a deal, Doc."  
  
"Good. I'll let you know what I find out."  
  
* * * * * *  
  
The air sparkled above an empty area in the middle of the Targ.   
B'Elanna remained calm as three Cardassians materialized.  
  
"Welcome," B'Elanna called out when the transportation was  
complete. Every fiber of her being wanted to attack them, but  
for the sake of her child, she held back.  
  
Two of the three men aimed their weapons at her. The third swung  
away to check out the rear of the ship.  
  
"You're alone." The eldest of the three remarked. It was more  
of a statement that a question.  
  
"Who did you expect to find here?"  
  
"You can never be too sure," Gul Arkaq replied slowly.  
  
The soldiers' eyes darted around the ship, looking for anything  
that might be suspicious--weapons, another person, anything. In  
one hand they held their weapon, with the other a tricorder. Gul  
Arkaq waved his weapon at B'Elanna.  
  
"If you please, my dear, please stand up, hands raised above your  
head, and turn around slowly."  
  
"Why?" She knew why.  
  
"Don't ask so many questions, just do as you're told."  
  
Obeying the Gul's orders, B'Elanna stood and turned around.  
  
With his free hand the Gul felt her body--both looking for any  
weapon that she might have hidden away and also so he could lay  
his hands upon her. When he began to get close to B'Elanna's  
dagger, the half-Klingon giggled like she had heard Mroki's girls  
do.  
  
The unexpected sound of B'Elanna laughing caused the Cardassian  
to stop his exploration. He'd seen some female Klingons over the  
years, had even had sex with one once--even though she was an  
unwilling participant. But he'd never heard one giggle like a  
human.  
  
"Sto-stop th-that," B'Elanna sputtered. "It t-t-tickles!" {And  
if you touch me again, I'll skin you alive!}  
  
Arkaq stepped back. This woman was a puzzlement. A wonder to  
behold.  
  
"What's your name, Klingon?"  
  
"My name?" {Kahless, she hated pretending she was so dumb and  
innocent!}  
  
"Yes, your name," Arkaq repeated trying to remain patient. He'd  
never seen such a naive Klingon--what a contradiction!  
  
"Oh, it's..." B'Elanna searched her memory frantically trying to  
come up with a name that would sound as unthreatening as  
possible. "It's Lanni," she said, choosing a shortened version  
of her own name.  
  
"Lanni? That doesn't sound very Klingon."  
  
"No. it's a name my father liked. He's human."   
  
"Lanni?" he questioned again.  
  
B'Elanna batted her dark eyes at the Cardie captain and added a  
pout. "Don't you like it?" {Damn this was sickening. When would  
the Maquis show up?}  
  
"It's lovely, just like you," Arkaq replied smoothly. "Now if  
you could tell me where you were going all by yourself?"  
  
"Um..." B'Elanna bit her lip. "I was going to Risa." It was the  
first planet she could think of that wasn't embroiled in a war.  
  
"Risa?" Nothing could have stunned the Cardie more that to learn  
that any Klingon, even an half-Klingon, would be interested in  
going to Risa.  
  
B'Elanna nodded.  
  
"You are nowhere near Risa," he informed her. Tell me again  
where you are going? This time I want the truth."  
  
"You must be mistaken," B'Elanna insisted. "I'm sure I'm  
following their directions exactly. Do you mind if I call up my  
map?"   
  
The Gul nodded.  
  
B'Elanna chewed her lower lip with apparent nervousness and  
punched in code into the ship's computer. She did it with  
deliberate clumsiness having to reenter the series of commands  
several times before a stellar map was displayed on her computer  
screen. She smiled broadly at her accomplishment.  
  
"See there's Risa," she said pointing to a flicker of light on  
the screen."  
  
Arkaq shook his head. "What you're pointing at is the scrap pit  
recovery station on Mirax 9. Risa is here." He pointed at  
another area on the map, far away from her present location.  
  
"It can't be!"  
  
"I assure you, it is."  
  
"Then I'm going in the wrong direction!" I'll be late. They're  
expecting me to start work next week!"  
  
This piece of news caught the Gul's interest. He knew that Risa  
was referred to as the 'Pleasure Planet.' "You are going to work  
there?" he questioned.  
  
B'Elanna giggled again. {Liberty, if you don't hurry up, I'm  
going to be sick and I don't mean morning sick!} "Yeah my friend,  
Sissy, says that they are always looking for friendly employees,  
and that they were always on the lookout for employees with a  
unique ethnic background. Sissy thought my Klingon half would  
somehow appeal to them." Again, B'Elanna giggled. "She also  
told me that the pay was very good."  
  
"Did your friend tell you what these employees actually are  
expected to do?" He motioned to his soldiers, who had stopped to  
listen to her tale, to continue their exploration.  
  
B'Elanna shrugged and reaching up she twirled a lock of hair  
around her index finger. "Just that you have to keep the  
customers happy. You know--listen to their stories, keep their  
glasses full, stuff like that." {The Gul seems to be buying this  
act of mine. Boy can men be stupid!}  
  
"You do know that Risa is called the 'Pleasure Planet' by the  
humans?  
  
She smiled and her head bobbed. "That's 'cuz everyone has such a  
good time. Sissy told me they have these giant blue lagoon type  
swimming pools. They are suppose to be nice and warm with all  
sorts of colorful fish that swim in them. I like fish!" {Yeah, I  
like them all right...to eat! Hurry up, Liberty. What the hell  
is keeping you?}  
  
Arkaq couldn't believe this half-Klingon was so naive. "Did she  
tell you that you'd be expected to swim in those lagoons naked?"  
  
B'Elanna's eyes widened with apparent surprise. "Naked? You  
mean no clothes?"  
  
Arkaq nodded. He was enjoying this moment. Watching people  
squirm was one of his favorite pastimes.  
  
"No! N-no!" B'Elanna looked shocked.   
  
"Yes, my dear." The Gul reached out with one scaley finger and  
casually ran it around *Lanni's* neckline. "Not a stitch of  
clothing on--naked as their day of birth. I wouldn't mind seeing  
it for myself someday." He continued his exploration of the  
neckline. B'Elanna gritted her teeth and remembered that the  
safety of her and Tom's child was at stake, and she prayed that  
he wouldn't find the...too late!  
  
"What's this?" Arkaq asked when his finger caught on the chain.   
B'Elanna's hand quickly reached up to stop the Cardassian but he  
had already pulled the chain out from where it had laid hidden  
beneath her shirt.  
  
"It's just a gift," she explained, trying to kep her voice light  
and non-threatening.  
  
Spying the oval-shaped locket, Arkaq attempted to pry open the  
halves of the pendant.   
  
Covering his hands with her own, B'Elanna tired to stop his  
quest. If he opened the locket and activated the hologram, he'd  
know that her name wasn't Lanni--and he'd find out about Tom.  
  
The Gul's curiosity was raised by her actions. "You must have  
done something remarkable to be given such a beautiful object,"  
he noted. "Why don't you want me looking at it?"  
  
B'Elanna laughed nervously. "It's just a gift," she insisted.   
"It's personal.  
  
"If you don't remove your hands, Lanni, I'll have my soldiers  
remove them for you--permanently. But I'd rather not have to do  
that. I have a feeling we could become friends...*good friends*.   
The emphasis he placed on the last words implied he wasn't  
referring to a platonic relationship.  
  
{I'll never to your *friend* you Cardie sonfabitch! Liberty,  
where the hell are you?!} B'Elanna slowly dropped her hands,  
though she would have loved to have wrapped her hands around the  
corded throat of the Gul and squeezed the life out of him.   
  
"That's better. now let's see this trinket you value."  
  
The Gul's fingernail slipped between the halves of the pendant  
and opened it. Instantly, he recognized the inner workings of a  
classic holo-locket.   
  
"Someone must have cared about you a great deal to give you one  
of these. It's an expensive gift."  
  
"Gul," one of the soldiers called out.  
  
"Can't you see that I"m busy?" Arkaq snapped.  
  
"But, sir, I'm detecting another life sign. The signal isn't  
that strong, but it's definitely there."  
  
Gul Arkaq looked up at B'Elanna, seeing her in a new light, his  
interest in the locket momentarily suspended. "Where is he  
hiding, my dear.?  
  
"There is no one on this ship but me."  
  
"It's not male, Gul Arkaq, it's another female."  
  
{A female? Who? What? Oh, Gods! The baby?! I'm carrying a  
girl?!}  
  
"Locate the source!" the Cardie barked, his eyes never leaving  
B'Elanna's face.   
  
The soldier nodded to his compatriot, a taller man, to brandish  
his weapon so he was able to concentrate on the readout from the  
tricorder. He swept the ship carefully until he swung around in  
B'Elanna's direction. Instantly, the signal grew stronger.   
Nearing the woman, the tricorder began to beep loudly.  
  
"I've discovered the source," he informed his captain. The  
soldier paused, trying to come to terms with the readout.  
  
"Spit it out!"  
  
"It's her, sir. It's inside her."  
  
"Inside?" Eyes widened with wonder. "You're pregnant?"  
  
B'Elanna nodded.  
  
This woman proved to be a constant surprise. He looked forward  
to getting her to his ship so he'd have more time to unravel her  
mystery.   
  
* * * * * *  
  
"Status!" Chakotay barked.  
  
"Closing, sir, we'll be in firing range in three point two  
seconds and in transporter range in two point four," Tuvok  
replied.  
  
"Good. Gerron, when I give the word, you'll deactivate the  
cloak. As soon as the ship is visible, Tuvok, you'll fire upon  
the Cardie ship. I want his weapon and propulsion systems  
disabled, so make your shots count. As soon as we are in range,  
we'll transport her on board. Then we're outta here! I don't  
want any mistakes--timing is everything if she and we are going  
to get out this alive."  
  
"Aye, sir," they replied in unison.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
The Gul's attention returned to the locket and his forefinger  
pressed the small button to activate the hologram. Immediately,  
like he had done hundreds of times before, Tom Paris appeared and  
his vow of love was replayed.  
  
"How touching," Arkaq sneered. "And how revealing. I thought  
you were innocent--but I see I was wrong." Arkaq dropped the  
locket in disgust at what he'd just witnessed. "You had no  
intention of going to Risa. You are in search of your child's  
father. I may never have seen his face, but I'd never forget the  
voice. Your lover is a Maquis. He's the one responsible for  
destroying my first ship!"  
  
{Good!}  
  
"Revenge will be mine, Lanni--or is it B'Elanna? Turn this ship  
inside out!" he ordered his soldiers. The men nodded and began  
to pull open drawers and turned over anything that wasn't bolted  
down. "And don't forget this," Arkaq kicked the trunk.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
"Drop the shields on my mark, Gerron."  
  
"Aye, sir." The young Bajoran's fingers hovered over the  
controls. His focus intent on his captain.  
  
The Captain's dark eyes surveyed the situation they were flying  
into. He relied more on experience than computer readouts.  
"Now!" he shouted.  
  
Gerron dropped the cloak. Tuvok took aim and fired. First a  
photon torpedo disabled the Cardassian ship's weapons and then a  
well-placed series of phaser shots at such close range  
effectively paralyzed the vessel.   
  
"As soon as you get a lock on her, transport."  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Everyone on board the Targ turned at the sound of the Liberty's  
weapons firing on the Cardassian ship.   
  
"Status!" the Gul barked into his comm badge.   
  
"Weapons are down and propulsion is disabled, sir. It's the  
Liberty again. They were cloaked this time and knew just where  
to strike!"  
  
B'Elanna smiled, glad that the ship had finally arrived. A  
familiar static began to swim around her. Knowing she was about  
to be transported, she quickly wrapped her arms around her  
precious trunk and both she and all her belongings were beamed  
off the Targ.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Nella Troka, a member of the Maquis and a Trill, ran an old  
medical tricorder over Liberty's new guest. Nella was the only  
person on board that had any kind of medical training. One of  
her former hosts had been a medic in a Trill military group--even  
though it had been seven hosts ago--Nella still was considered  
the Liberty's doctor when the need arose.  
  
"You'll be happy to know you're fine," Nella announced shutting  
the tricorder off. "Both you and your baby are doing well.  
Though to be safe, you should probably supplement your diet with  
some prenatal nutrients."  
  
B'Elanna who had been laying on the examining table pulled  
herself up, resting on her elbows. "Are you sure there's nothing  
wrong?"  
  
"Relax. You're both doing well." Nella smiled down at her  
patient.  
  
"That's a relief. Now if you could tell me where I could find  
Tom."  
  
"Tom?" There's no one on this ship by that name."  
  
"This is the Liberty, isn't it?"  
  
Nella nodded.  
  
"He's the pilot," B'Elanna explained.  
  
"Actually there was a Tom on the ship, he was the pilot, but all  
of us called him Paris--but he's gone."   
  
"Gone?" the half-Klingon questioned, her voice raised.  
  
Nella nodded.  
  
B'Elanna's blood froze in her veins. "Tom can't be. If he was  
dead, I'd know it...I'd feel it."  
  
"Wait a minute," Nella cautioned holding her hands up trying to  
calm the woman. "I didn't say he was dead--just gone."  
  
With relief, B'Elanna's blood flowed again. "Then where is he?"  
  
The Trill sighed and lowered herself into a nearby chair. "We  
don't know. Is he the father?"  
  
"Yes. We met on Palmat."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Sorry? About what?"  
  
"Tom Paris is not what I'd consider a family man. You are  
probably better off without him."  
  
B'Elanna was about to tell her to go to hell when another voice  
piped up. "What going on in here? What's this about Paris?"  
  
Nella and B'Elanna looked up to see the captain of the Liberty  
enter the infirmary.   
  
"Our guest is looking for Paris," Nella explained.  
  
Chakotay's eyes widened. "Paris? Did you tell her he's not on  
board?"  
  
Nella nodded.  
  
Grimacing, Chakotay moved next to B'Elanna. "What did Paris  
promise you for you to have risked so much to find him?"  
  
{Just his heart.} "I need to see him," B'Elanna said instead.  
  
Nella placed a comforting hand on B'Elanna's shoulder and  
squeezed. "I'll leave you two alone. Talk to him, B'Elanna.   
The Captain's a good man."  
  
With trepidation, B'Elanna watched the medic leave the infirmary  
leaving her alone with Liberty's captain.   
  
Chakotay eyed the woman carefully, and wondered what it was that  
Tom Paris possessed that women were so interested in. Every time  
Liberty was in port when Paris had been on board, at least one  
and usually more women hovered around the pilot seeking his  
attention. Of course, the tattooed man admitted, Paris was good  
looking and came from a wealthy family, but other than that, what  
did the women see in him? Couldn't they tell he was just leading  
them on?   
  
This particular woman was more of a puzzle. None of the others  
had flown through space alone and braved the Cardassians' wrath  
to be near the pilot. Perhaps it was her heritage that made her  
so determined to be with Paris. He noted her forehead crests,  
and realized that they bespoke of a Klingon heritage. Maybe it  
was her Klingon half that spurred her on. Paris, as far as he  
was concerned, was nothing more than a womanizer and a mercenary.   
Fighting for anyone to pay his bar bills. What had he done this  
time to make this woman come looking for him?  
  
The Captain motioned to a pair of mismatched chairs with a wave  
of his hand. "Let's have a seat." B'Elanna nodded and both took  
a seat while Chakotay chose to straddle his chair. The Captain  
folded his arms across his broad chest. "Tell me why are you are  
looking for Tom Paris?"  
  
"I'm afraid that's my business," B'Elanna countered. Her dark  
eyes surveyed the man before her. She didn't want to tell him  
anything more than necessary.  
  
"Not any more it isn't." The captain's voice was soft, but his  
tone was all business. "I not only saved your life, but put the  
lives of everyone on this ship in jeopardy to rescue you from the  
Cardies. Now you're going to tell me why you risked so much to  
come looking for my former pilot. I won't bother you any more  
than I have to."  
  
B'Elanna looked away from the Captain, focusing instead on the  
deck in an attempt to control her emotions, before she faced him  
again. "Look, I'm very grateful for all you've done for me {and  
for my unborn child} but if Tom isn't here, I promise I'll leave  
the ship at the next port."  
  
"That might take sometime. We aren't scheduled to be in port for  
several weeks. We've recently performed repairs to the ship, our  
cargo bays are full, and our energy supplies are at peak."  
  
"So you finally got the port nacelle's frequency stabilized?"  
B'Elanna asked remembering that Tom had told her about this  
problem during their fancy dinner out.  
  
"Yes, we..." He paused. "How did you know?" Realization dawned  
on Chakotay. "Are you Paris' engineer? The one from Palmat?"  
  
"Yes, my name is B'Elanna Torres. Now can you tell me where he  
is. It's important that I see him."  
  
"You and half the female population in this sector!" Chakotay  
spat. He sprang up from his seat, annoyed at B'Elanna's  
persistence.   
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Chakotay's head snapped in her direction. "You don't think that  
you are the only woman who thinks Tom Paris is in love with them  
do you?" It was cruel to be so blunt, but he had his fill with  
the cocky pilot. If this woman was so stupid to fly alone  
through a war zone, then it was about time she faced some home  
truths.   
  
B'Elanna felt like she'd been hit by a phaser volley. It took  
her a while to gather her wits and respond. "I'm not so naive to  
believe that someone as handsome and as kind as Tom Paris hasn't  
had his share of women chasing him, but what we had was  
different--it was special!"   
  
"That's what they all say. Usually they approach the ship  
looking for him while we are still in port. I do have to give  
you credit for your ingenuity, none of the others have tried to  
follow him this far." Chakotay picked up the medical tricorder  
that Nella had left on a side table and for lack of anything  
better to do nervously tossed the item back and forth from one  
hand to the other.  
  
"Can you at least tell me where he went if he's not on the ship?"  
B'Elanna asked repeating her earlier question.  
  
"We don't know. The ship suffered some damage during a skirmish  
with a Cardie patrol vessel. Paris volunteered to take a shuttle  
to Selka and bring back some help. Like an idiot, I let him go.   
That's the last we saw of him or the shuttle."  
  
"Maybe he was captured," B'Elanna offered. "Did you go look for  
him?"  
  
Chakotay stopped tossing the tricorder. "Of course we looked for  
him, and didn't find anything. We didn't find anything. The  
Selkan's that finally did come to our aid and told us that they  
had been lucky enough to intercept a communication between two  
Cardie ships. Tom Paris had fled, leaving us high and dry."  
  
"I don't believe he'd do that," B'Elanna said defending her  
missing mate.  
  
Chakotay sighed and decided to try another tactic. "You say you  
met Paris on Palmat?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"We were only on that planet for a few weeks. Paris has been  
with the Maquis over a year. I think I know him better than you  
do."  
  
The Klingon shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. I'm not here to argue  
that point with you. The fact remains that I...still..need to  
f... B'Elanna brought one hand to her stomach and one to her  
mouth. She was long overdue to eat, and when that happened she  
was prone to nausea since she became pregnant. Simple morning  
sickness she could handle, but possessing the Klingon famous  
redundant stomachs when nausea hit, it hit hard.  
  
"What can I get you? A bucket?" Chakotay asked, clearly  
unraveled at what he was witnessing.  
  
A nod. Not daring to open her mouth to speak.  
  
Quickly Chakotay found an appropriately sized container and  
passed it to her. Accepting the container, B'Elanna moved to the  
back of the room to achieve some semblance of privacy. While she  
was heaving, the Captain looked through the drawers in the  
infirmary for something to counteract the nausea. Having  
assisted Nella over the last year, he knew what to look for.  
  
Hypospray in hand, he approached B'Elanna. "I promise this wont'  
hurt, it should help you feel better very soon," he promised and  
moved her dark locks away from the nap of her neck so he could  
inject her.  
  
With lightning reflexes B'Elanna jerked away from him.  
  
"I'm not trying to hurt you," he reiterated.   
  
"That may be...but it might hurt the child I'm carrying."  
  
His jaw dropped and the hypo rattled to the floor. "You're  
pregnant?"  
  
A nod.  
  
"Paris is the father?"  
  
Another nod.  
  
Nothing was ever easy, Chakotay mused.  
  
  
Several weeks later...  
  
Alone in the section of the ship for a change, B'Elanna sat  
cross-legged on her bunk in what had been Tom's cabin. She  
removed the necklace from around her throat and cradled the  
precious locket in her hands. It was what was considered night  
on the ship. Most of the crew were sound asleep or partying in  
Liberty's mess hall. A skeleton crew manned the bridge, while  
the Liberty took refuge in a secret pocket of protection in the  
Badlands. Chakotay had explained to B'Elanna when she first  
witnessed this phenomenon that it was the equivalent of an eye of  
a hurricane, except this one remained stationary. The crew  
called it "Sanctuary."  
  
With a trembling finger and with tears flowing down her cheeks,  
B'Elanna opened the locket and pressed the button to activate the  
hologram. In silence she listened to Tom Paris' last words to  
her.  
  
"...only and always."  
  
In the past, the words always made her feel confident and  
cherished. Listening to the words tonight she wondered if things  
had changed. Her life certainly had since that day on Palmat  
when he left. She was now a Maquis. In fact, she'd been of so  
much help during her time on board, that when the Liberty's  
engineer had suffered serous injuries during a run-in with a  
Starfleet ship, Chakotay had promoted her to the position of  
Chief Engineer. It was a lot more fulfilling than fixing Mroki's  
old broken down equipment, now she was repairing Chakotay's old  
broken down equipment. Not much of a distinction when you  
thought about it, but it made her feel more needed. The activity  
was also keeping her busy. She found she seldom had a moment to  
herself anymore.  
  
So taking advantage of her time alone she activated her hand-held  
computer terminal and began her log.  
  
"Computer, activate log."  
  
::::Recording::::  
  
B'Elanna made herself comfortable, adjusting her pillow behind  
her back. "Boy this has been awhile, I don't think I've entered  
anything in my personal log for weeks, but I came to a conclusion  
since I last made an entry. I told Chakotay that I'm committing  
myself to the Maquis cause. I believe in why they are  
fighting...they are brave men and women who need me...and I need  
them.   
  
"They need me to help them and I've grown to respect their  
Captain. He's a good man. I know he told me that he and Tom  
didn't get along very well, but I like him. I'm finding that I  
seek him out for advice and I've learned that he's wise and above  
all else, he's there when I need him. Perhaps deep inside I see  
him as a replacement for my father--offering me those pearls of  
wisdom that I never received growing up, unless you could count  
my mother's admonitions to follow Klingon tradition. Snort!  
  
"Last week Chakotay took me on something he calls a vision quest.  
I'd been complaining to him about my Klingon half. I guess he  
thought it would help me learn to control my temper. While I was  
honored that he shared this part of his heritage with me, I had  
my doubts that this quest would help..."  
  
With one hand placed on the Akoonah, and the other clutching a  
well-worn stone, B'Elanna slipped into a spiritual trance.   
Opening her eyes the half-Klingon found herself in a forest.   
She'd expected that, it was one of the few things Chakotay told  
her to expect before she began her vision quest. Looking to her  
right then left B'Elanna observed her surroundings. A variety of  
tall fir trees and deciduous trees made up the forest. The new  
green color on the latter trees indicated that the forest was  
experiencing a spring, or maybe since this was really a state of  
mind, it meant that she was in the spring of her life. Funny,  
B'Elanna thought, some days it felt that she had to be in autumn  
or winter. The sound of a bird screeching made her look up. A  
falcon* circled overhead getting lower and lower until it finally  
perched on a strong branch not far from where B'Elanna stood.   
  
Chakotay had informed her that the first animal she spotted would  
be the animal to guide her, so she took a tentative step forward.   
"Hello," she began. "Are you my Spirit Guide?"   
  
The falcon tilted its regal head to one side and seemed to  
contemplate this newcomer to the forest. From within her mind,  
B'Elanna heard the falcon respond.  
  
"I am."  
  
"Good." {Now how the hell do you talk to an animal who's suppose  
to be wiser than you?}  
  
"Is it good?" the bird questioned.  
  
"Isn't is suppose to be?" she countered.  
  
"Depends. Why did you come?"  
  
Already B'Elanna felt exasperated and they hadn't even exchanged  
more than a few words. She shrugged. "I don't know."  
  
"Yes, you do."  
  
"You're wrong," she insisted.  
  
"No, I'm not," the bird stubbornly replied. "This forest is the  
place for truths. You must begin by being true to yourself. Why  
did you come?"  
  
"Because Chak--"  
  
The falcon spread its wings and flew away from her.  
  
"Stop!" B'Elanna called out. "STOP!"  
  
"Are you ready to speak truths?" the animal guide called out from  
above.  
  
"I...ah...yes."  
  
"Then tell me," the falcon demanded perching on a stout branch.  
  
"I...ah...I'm here to help control my temper. A friend suggested  
that I give it a try."  
  
"Do you come for yourself, or because of your friend's  
suggestion?"  
  
"Both maybe."  
  
"Not good enough."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I want to know why you are here--the truth. What is it you  
seek?" the bird questioned.  
  
"Guess I'm not sure. I'm confused."  
  
"Perhaps, but maybe you just can't speak the words, the falcon  
suggested. "Perhaps your pride gets in the way."  
  
B'Elanna wrapped her arms around herself and sank to the forest  
floor. Looking up at the bird, her eyes shone with moisture.   
"I...I suppose the real reason I'm here is to find out if he  
still cares," she admitted. "I need to know if my baby's father  
still loves me."  
  
"You don't know?"  
  
"If I knew, I wouldn't be here," B'Elanna spat.  
  
The falcon sat silent for what seemed like an eternity. Finally  
the bird blinked twice and replied. "Your soul is troubled.   
You are torn."  
  
B'Elanna looked past her animal guide focusing on the forest  
beyond--the wind had begun to stir the leaves on the trees. "I  
am troubled. The man I love is gone and I have no way to look  
for him. Someone else has befriended me. He's kind and looks  
after me and the child. I'm indebted to him."  
  
"Trust in fate," the falcon advised.  
  
{Trust in fate?} The familiar words shook her to the core. She  
needed to think and plan for the future. She had her baby to  
think of. It was easy to rely upon the uncertainty of fate when  
you had only yourself to be responsible for."  
  
"I can't just trust in fate!" B'Elanna bellowed. "There's too  
much at stake!"  
  
"There's more than you know. Bow to fate!"  
  
"Fate? FATE!!!" I'm sick to death of that word. My fate is what  
I make it. My fate is for me to decide!"  
  
"You don't know the complete truth," the falcon replied.  
  
"I know enough. Enough to make my own decisions. My mate left  
his ship. He didn't return to me. I have to rethink my future."  
  
"Then why did you come? Why did you seek me if you are not  
prepared to accept the truth?"  
  
B'Elanna was silent in her anger except for a low growl that  
emanated deep within.  
  
"You must seek the truth!!!" the falcon demanded. "You must be  
willing to become a voyager on a sea of fate!"  
  
B'Elanna's fingers picked up a rock and hurled it at the bird  
just as the falcon spread its wings and flew off the branch. The  
half-Klingon narrowly missed her target. {Truth, fate...what  
difference did it make?}  
  
Chakotay ducked just in time to avoid being hit by the rock that  
B'Elanna had been clutching in her hand. Never in all his years  
in witnessing others venture on spirit quests, had he ever seen  
anyone throw the rock.   
  
When B'Elanna opened her eyes she looked both confused and angry.  
  
"B'Elanna are you okay?" her captain asked. "What happened?"  
  
She passed him the akoonah that she still held in her other hand.  
  
"I don't think these spirit quests are for me."  
  
"What do you mean?" he asked.  
  
"I almost killed my animal guide," she explained.  
  
B'Elanna walked out of the captain's cabin, leaving the occupant  
slack-jawed and speechless.  
  
* * *   
  
"I wanted the spirit guide thing to work. I really did, but it  
didn't. But I've resolved myself to serving on the Liberty for  
the time being. Chakotay assures me that as soon as he reaches a  
safe port, I can leave the ship. He knows of a few colonies who  
sympathize with the Maquis. There he said he'll help me find  
work and a place to live. I can repair engines and ships for the  
Maquis, while at the same time making a home for myself and my  
child.   
  
"I don't know exactly when I started to think of my future with  
just me and the baby, in the past Tom was always a part of the  
equation. Not any more. Maybe it's self-preservation.   
Chakotay, did try to find Tom, against his better judgement, but  
all queries came back unknown--well, all except one. A Bolian  
ship, who was friendly to the Maquis, said they had seen someone  
that matched Tom's description. Some on the ship even swore it  
was him--but said that the man was calling himself Nick Locarno.   
This "Nick" had flown through their area of space shortly after I  
had boarded the Liberty. He'd been surrounded by beautiful women  
and had swindled the Bolians out of several cases of Dirumbian  
ale. Sounds like too much of a coincidence. I had to finally  
face the fact that what Chakotay had told me about Tom was the  
truth. The truth hits hard.  
  
"I guess that was when I found myself relying on the good captain  
more and more. For a while, I thought maybe there could be  
something between us, but then I had to remind myself that he has  
another. One of the Bajorans on the ship--a woman named Seska--  
told me that they are in a relationship. To me it seems like a  
one-sided affair--she loving him, more than he loves her. But  
what do I know about love affairs? I certainly haven't had much  
luck myself. Tomorrow I'm going to see Nella and I'm having the  
scar removed. Maybe someday I'll even be brave enough to stop  
wearing the locket.  
  
"Computer end log entry."  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Tom flipped open a small hand-held recording device and sat down  
on his bed that had recently been stripped of its linen and began  
to record.  
  
"Well I'm packing--what little I have that is--a comb, a change  
of clothes, and my shaving kit. I've said goodbye to the doctor  
and tomorrow Captain Janeway is sending a shuttle to transport me  
to Deep Space 9. From there I'm to board her ship. It's called  
Voyager--sounds harmless.   
  
"Just when I thought my life was going to remain unchanged--at  
least for the next few years--things get turned upside down.   
Just when I think that I may never see B'Elanna--I have hope in  
my heart that we'll be together again.  
  
"Yesterday, while I was working in the motor repair bay, this  
determined redhead approached me. She told me her name was  
Captain Kathryn Janeway and that she had once served with my  
father. Like that's suppose to impress me! Fat chance! But I  
was impressed that she wanted me to go with her--even if it was  
with the intent of ratting out my former Maquis crewmates. I  
think she thought I was offended--that I might not do it. Hell,  
I would have done anything if it meant that I might be able to  
find B'Elanna again. Gods, I miss her! It's been too long since  
we've been together. But damn, I have to go as an observer! An  
observer?!?! I told Janeway that she couldn't find a better  
pilot than me. Secretly, I think she enjoyed the look of  
disappointment she must have been evident on my face when she  
told me I'd go as an observer or not at all. But that's okay, as  
long as I'm out of this prison I might have the opportunity to  
look for my mate. The next time I make a log entry, I should be  
on board Janeway's ship."   
  
"Computer end log entry."  
  
End Chapter 5  
  
Click here to transport to Chapter 6 - Recovery 


	7. Recovery

CHAPTER 6 - RECOVERY  
  
~~~~Brandy wears a braided chain   
~~~~Made of finest silver from the north of Spain   
~~~~A locket that bears the name   
~~~~Of a man that Brandy loves.  
  
Liberty.  
  
It had been a wild ride, in enough time it would take to close a  
door, they had been pulled from the Alpha Quadrant and into the  
Delta Quadrant...70,000 light-years from home. It just didn't  
seem possible, yet it was. The Liberty was in shambles, and the  
people that had survived were busy trying to repair the ship or  
they were in the infirmary seeking medical attention.  
  
Surveying the ship's mess hall, Chakotay looked around to see  
that cylinders now occupied the area, and some of the people that  
used to constitute his crew lay inside. Silently, Chakotay  
passed by the cylinders and laid a hand upon each of them.   
Sarma, Rick, Nella...all had paid the ultimate price. And for  
what? To be whisked across the galaxy with little hope of ever  
returning home?   
  
The Liberty's captain sadly shook his dark head. Since he had  
assumed command of the ship, this was the worst crisis he had to  
face. Offering up a quiet prayer to whatever deity or deities  
watched over this corner of space he finished his private  
ceremony of mourning and remembrance. Looking up he saw Gerron  
who was preparing the cylindrical coffins for deployment into  
space.   
  
"You're doing a fine job, Gerron. Your fallen crewmembers would  
be proud."  
  
"Thank you, Captain," the usually cheerful Bajoran looked  
extremely sullen and finished sealing the last cylinder. "They  
wouldn't blame you sir. All of them," he motioned to the  
cylinders, "respected you a great deal."  
  
Chakotay nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He almost missed  
the Cardassians. At least they were a known quantity.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Voyager.  
  
"So, Mr. Paris, where do you think we can find the Maquis?"  
Janeway asked. Cavit, her first officer, reluctantly stepped  
back from the console so Tom could look at the screen. There was  
no doubt that the first officer didn't care for the Captain's  
"Observer."  
  
Stepping closer, Tom made note of various course trajectories and  
the fluctuating eddies of the turbulent plasma storms that made  
up this area of space that was called "The Badlands."  
  
"Knowing Chakotay, I'd expect him to seek refuge in the "Tarikoff  
Belt," he noted and pointed to an area on the display.  
  
"Stadi," Janeway spoke up, addressing her chief pilot, a  
beautiful female Betazoid. "I'm transferring this information to  
the helm controls. Set in a course."  
  
"Aye, Captain." With ease, Stadi entered the commands into the  
navigational database, while Tom Paris looked upon her with envy.   
He had already fallen in love with this sleek ship, and he itched  
to take the controls. Tom hoped Stadi wasn't reading his mind,  
but from the twitch of her lip, he knew she had *heard* every  
word.  
  
"Captain!" Harry Kim called out from his position at Ops  
interrupting Tom's thoughts. "We're being scanned by a coherent  
tetryon beam. There's also a large displacement wave rapidly  
approaching our location.   
  
"Rollins, try and ..."  
  
Janeway's command was cut short, when the ship was rocked to her  
core. Sparks flew, fires broke out, and people were thrown  
around Voyager like they were rag dolls.  
  
When Voyager finally stopped shaking, Harry alarmed everyone on  
the bridge with his statement that they were no longer in the  
Alpha Quadrant, but were now over 70,000 light-years away in the  
Delta Quadrant. Everyone that is that was still alive to hear  
his words...Stadi and Cavit lay dead. On the bridge's view  
screen, the remaining crew could see a large floating space  
station.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Everyone on Voyager and the Liberty were busy taking care of the  
wounded, and mending the ships. Tom was helping Harry Kim in  
Sickbay with the wounded; and B'Elanna and Chakotay were  
repairing the warp engine when suddenly both crews were  
transported away from the ships and to the space station.   
  
Just as suddenly, a few days later, after they had been prodded  
with needles and examined, they were returned...that is all  
except for two.  
  
* * * * * *   
Waking up in a stark white environment for a second time,  
B'Elanna's hand insinctively reached up to her neck to touch her  
locket, hoping it would bring her comfort, like it had in the  
past, but she found to her surprise that it was gone.  
  
"Morning," Harry Kim called out. He had been sitting on the edge  
of his bed waiting for the Maquis woman, laying in an identical  
bed beside him to wake up.  
  
"Morning?" B'Elanna questioned.  
  
"Actually it's just a guess. I have no way of telling in here,"  
the young Asian male replied. "How are you feeling?" Harry  
noted the look of confusion that passed over the woman's exotic  
features. He couldn't figure out what alien race she belonged  
to, but he knew from reconnaissance that she was the Maquis  
engineer on the Liberty.  
  
B'Elanna paused briefly to consider his question. "Um...  
groggy... and a bit weak, I guess." Carefully, B'Elanna swung  
her legs over the edge of the bed and faced Harry.  
  
Harry nodded, he wasn't feeling his usual robust self either.  
"Not surprising, the Ocampa, they are the people who live here,"  
he explained, "injected you with something to quiet you. They  
thought you were going to tear this place apart--not that I blame  
them."  
  
The half-Klingon rubbed her temples. It was coming back to her  
now. She remembered waking up and wanting desperately to get  
out. She also recalled the panic she felt just before they  
injected her, when she noticed those ugly growths on her body.  
{Oh Kahless, the baby! How did all this affect my baby?}  
  
"I'm starting to remember," she said, her right hand rubbed her  
abdomen in a circular motion. Lately she could get her baby to  
move if she massaged her stomach just right. B'Elanna smiled  
softly when the baby responded with a strong kick. It didn't  
prove that the child wasn't affected, but she took it to be a  
good sign.  
  
"The Ocampa think that your baby is okay," Harry told her. He  
had noted the look of concern on her face.  
  
B'Elanna sighed. "That's a relief, I was worried."  
  
"Yeah, I could tell."  
  
"But what are these things?" B'Elanna pointed to a ugly growth  
that was on her forearm. It was lumpy, red, and sore to the  
touch.  
  
"They aren't saying, I'm not even sure they know. When they come  
back, we can ask them. They seem very friendly."  
  
"Okay, so where are we?" B'Elanna asked turning his attention  
away from herself.  
  
"The Caretaker sent us here, according to the medical personnel.   
Far as I can make out, he is some type of godlike being that  
lives on that space station."  
  
"Yeah, I remember that space station, Where are you from? You  
didn't serve on the Liberty."  
  
No, I was on the U.S.S. Voyager."  
  
"Voyager?"  
  
"Yeah, we were assigned to capture the Liberty, but got pulled  
into the Delta Quadrant just like you did."  
  
B'Elanna moved warily from her bed, away from Harry Kim.  
  
"Relax, Maquis, I don't even have a phaser on me." Harry made a  
show of padding his hospital attire. "Besides, it looks like we  
are in this together. It only makes sense that we should  
cooperate."  
  
B'Elanna snorted derisively .   
  
The next instant, the door to the room swished open and a fairly  
tall man and two females came in, all were dressed in white. All  
of them looked human with the exception of their ears that  
reminded Harry Kim of a Vulcan's ears.  
  
"Are you well rested?" the man politely asked. Harry and  
B'Elanna nodded. "Good, we brought some clothes with us. We  
thought you might like to stretch your legs and get something to  
eat."  
  
"Sounds good," Harry replied. "I am a little hungry."  
  
"Speak for yourself, Starfleet," B'Elanna snapped. "I'm eating  
for two...I'm starving! And if I don't get something to eat  
pretty soon, I'm bound to be nauseous." {Oh the joys of being  
pregnant!}  
  
"Very well, we have some excellent nutritional foods that should  
be not only good for you, but also your baby."  
  
"That's good to know," B'Elanna admitted. "Look, I'm sorry I was  
so...um...violent earlier. It's my Klingon temper, it can be  
very hard to control."  
  
Klingon? That explains a lot," Harry thought.  
  
"It certainly must be disconcerting to wake up in a strange  
environment. We can understand that," the Ocampan male admitted.   
  
"Before we go anywhere, we'd like to know what these things are,"  
B'Elanna asked pointing once again to the growth on her arm.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid we just don't know. We wish we did, but  
we'll try our best to make you as comfortable as possible."  
  
"What do you mean, you don't know?" Kim demanded.  
  
The man shrugged. "All the people that are sent to us by the  
Caretaker have been afflicted to one degree of another with these  
terrible growths," he explained. "We have been able to determine  
that the child you are carrying," he turned to face B'Elanna,  
"doesn't seem to be affected." He hoped this information would  
be of comfort to the woman.  
  
"If you can't tell us what they are, then can you at least tell  
us when will these things go away?" Kim asked. "When will we get  
better?"  
  
The Ocampa male folded his hands in front of him and his eyes  
expressed great sadness. "I'm afraid they won't go away, and we  
have yet to find a cure for your infliction. You can be asssured  
that if the child is born before...before--."  
  
"Before we die?" B'Elanna interrupted. Harry swallowed down a  
lump in his throat, but tried to present a brave front.   
  
The alien nodded. "If your child is born before you die, you can  
be assured that we'll raise her as if she was one of our own.   
She'll be treasured."  
  
B'Elanna placed her hand on her stomach again. She no longer felt  
very brave.  
  
"Voyager and the Liberty will find us, Maquis," Harry assured  
her. "We have very sophisticated instruments on our ship, it's  
the latest technology that Starfleet has. And when they do find  
us, the doctor will make us well again." He hoped he sounded  
convincing--he also hoped that was saying was true.  
  
B'Elanna hoped he was right.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Waking up on Voyager, Tom found that he was back in Sickbay once  
again with that holographic doctor that Harry Kim had called up  
when it was discovered that both Voyager's doctor and nurse  
hadn't survived the trip to the Delta Quadrant.   
  
What had Harry call him? Tom tried to remember. Oh yeah, an  
Emergency Medical Hologram--or EMH for short. Far as Tom was  
concerned from what he had already witnessed, EMH stood for  
Extremely Moody Hardass.   
  
Looking around, Tom noted that Harry was not to be found.   
Tapping his comm badge, he asked the computer to locate his new  
friend, but was informed Harry was not on Voyager. Immediately,  
he contacted Captain Janeway to inform her of the news and then,  
seeing that the EMH had things well under control, he left for  
the bridge. Maybe he could be of use there.  
  
Tom Paris arrived on the bridge just as Chakotay, Tuvok, and  
Ayala were beaming aboard.   
  
As soon as they materialized, Captain Janeway personally greeted  
the Vulcan, taking Chakotay by surprise. Finding out that Tuvok  
had been working undercover for the Federation for several weeks,  
Chakotay was shocked. But what stunned the Maquis captain even  
more was when he turned and saw Tom Paris standing on the bridge  
of Voyager.  
  
"The Vulcan was doing his duty as a Starfleet officer, but what  
are you doing here?" Chakotay demanded of his former pilot. "You  
betrayed us for what? Freedom from prison? Latinum? What was  
your price this time, Paris?"  
  
Chakotay took a step toward Paris, but Janeway put up a hand to  
stop him. "Mr. Paris is a member of my crew, I expect you to  
treat him with the same respect as I would treat a member of  
yours." He appraised her silently, his dark eyes, looked into  
her grey ones. Starfleet had trained her well, he concluded.   
She wasn't about to relinquish any ground.  
  
"Captain."  
  
Both Janeway and Chakotay turned to look at the Vulcan.   
  
"I've been analyzing our situation. It is my opinion that we are  
dealing with a solitary individual on the array."  
  
"Only one person on that whole space station?" Janeway asked. It  
didn't seem possible during our time away from the ship, that  
there had only been one person responsible.  
  
Tuvok nodded. "It is also my opinion, that during our time on  
the array, we were being biologically examined."  
  
"Examined?" Chakotay questioned. His attention was now diverted  
from Paris.  
  
"Why else were we returned undamaged?" Tuvok replied.  
  
"Not all of us returned," Paris noted.  
  
Janeway turned to Chakotay. "That's true, Ensign Harry Kim, my  
ops officer didn't return."  
  
"Neither did my engineer." Chakotay wasn't about to tell Paris  
specifically that B'Elanna Torres was the one missing. He'd do  
anything he could to protect her from this mercenary.  
  
"I think we need to go back to the array, and this time under our  
own terms. I want to find these missing people," Janeway  
remarked. "Captain, will you accompany me?"  
  
Chakotay cooly appraised Voyager's captain.   
  
The only chance we have of returning home is if we work  
together," she told him.  
  
"That is a logical course of action," Tuvok agreed.  
  
Chakotay nodded.  
  
"Good, Tuvok break out the compression rifles, this time we are  
going back armed." Chakotay and Ayala followed Janeway toward the  
turbolift.   
  
"Captain," Paris called out, "I'd like to go with you."  
  
Janeway looked perturbed at being interrupted, but paused. "If  
this has anything to do with Chakotay--."  
  
Tom shook his head. "It doesn't, I just want to do anything I  
can to help Harry."  
  
"Very well. Tuvok, see that Mr. Paris is armed."  
  
Tom fought back a look of surprise at the apparent trust the  
Captain was placing in him and followed her.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Walking back through the farm yard, like they had when they were  
first beamed to the array, the four went in search of the  
Caretaker.   
  
Janeway scanned the area with her tricorder.  
  
"I"m not getting any conclusive readings," she informed the  
others. "I suppose since we are here, we should search the  
farrmhouse."   
  
The others nodded and walked up the farmhouse's wooden steps and  
went inside. They checked out every room, but found the usual  
accouterments--worn country furniture, a basket for the farm dog  
to sleep in, and even a bowl full of fruit had been placed on the  
table, but not the old man.   
  
Exiting out the backdoor, they turned their attention to the  
barn--the last place they remembered seeing the farm folk.   
Janeway and Ayala took to the loft, while Chakotay and Paris  
searched the main floor.   
  
"I'll look over here," Chakotay decided pointing to his left.   
  
Paris nodded. "I'll take this area." The pilot pointed to the  
other side of the barn, as far away from Chakotay as was  
possible. Making a thorough search Tom looked behind the bales  
of hay.  
  
"There doesn't seem to be anything up here," Janeway called out.   
Just a lot of hay, we're coming down."  
  
"Seems to be the same down here, Captain," Chakotay remarked. "A  
lot of hay and...ACHOOO!...dust."   
  
Janeway chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation. "Mr.  
Paris, did you find anything?"   
  
Tom looked out from behind four bales of hay that had been  
stacked vertically. A few pieces of hay stuck out from behind  
his ear. "Nothing, Captain..." A glint of something shiny to  
his left near another bale of hay caught his eye. "Wait," he  
amended reaching out. His fingers closed upon the item, but even  
before he could examine it with his eyes, he knew what it was.   
It was something he'd never forget.   
  
"What did you find?" Janeway earnestly asked, she had climbed  
down the ladder that had led to the loft, and was now standing  
beside Tom Paris.  
  
"A locket." Blue eyes looked up at the Captain, he still  
couldn't believe that it was that he had found. What would the  
odds be that the Caretaker would create a locket that looked  
exactly...and then he knew...the Caretaker hadn't created this.  
  
"Where is she?" Tom demanded, striding past Janeway and toward  
Chakotay.  
  
"She?" The Maquis captain questioned.  
  
"*Don't* play ignorant with me, Chakotay!" Tom spat. "This," he  
held up the silver locket, "belongs to B'Elanna. I should know I  
gave it to her...Where is she?" he repeated.  
  
Janeway looked from Tom to Chakotay and then back again. "What  
are you talking about, Mr. Paris?"  
  
Tom opened the locket, and the hologram of himself played for all  
to see. Chakotay who had known about Tom, but had never seen the  
inner workings of the locket looked dumbfounded.   
  
"Who's this B'Elanna?" Janeway demanded, this time addressing  
Chakotay.  
  
"She's my engineer," he replied, but his gaze remained fixed on  
Paris.  
  
The thought was enough to make Tom's world spin.  
  
"Your *missing* engineer?" Janeway asked.  
  
Chakotay nodded. "She's the one who's missing, along with your  
Ensign Kim."  
  
"You had no right to keep this information from me!" Tom bit out,  
his face hard with fury.  
  
"I'm her captain. It's my job to protect her from *all*  
threats," Chakotay told him coldly, "including you."  
  
"Don't you think this should be B'Elanna's choice? You had no  
right to interfere!"  
  
Janeway stepped between the two irate men, placing her hands  
their chests to keep them apart. "Now is not the time,  
gentlemen. We have more important matters at stake. First we  
have to find B'Elanna and Harry. We have to remain composed and  
work as a team if we expect to find our missing people," she  
added. If you to can't put differences aside, I'll call for  
Voyager to beam you back to the ship. Do I make myself clear?"   
Tom and Chakotay hesitated at first, their anger still ripe, and  
then both nodded, knowing that she was right.  
  
Tom forced himself to relax, if there was one thing he had  
learned in that New Zealand prison was patience. The important  
thing right now was that B'Elanna was here with them in the Delta  
Quadrant. So near but yet so far away. He had to find  
them...find them both!  
  
In the stunned silence that followed, the sound of a familiar  
banjo drifted through the air.   
  
They found the Caretaker outside, strumming nonchalantly on a  
well-used banjo, just like they had first seen him.  
Unfortunately, the meeting with him proved useless. He told them  
that Harry and B'Elanna were no longer on the array but didn't  
say where they were. He also spoke of not having enough time,  
and honoring a debt could never be repaid. When Janeway pressed  
for more answers, the Caretaker with a slight wave of his hand  
had sent them all back to Voyager.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Arriving back on the ship, Janeway debriefed the landing party,   
making a computer record of everything that transpired back on   
the Array. It had been decided that their best course of action  
would be to follow the bursts of white energy that were being  
sent from the Array to a small planet. Hopefully, the two  
missing crewmen would be found there.   
  
The Liberty followed Voyager. Being that the Maquis ship was  
still having problems with its warp core, it would take some  
time to reach the planet. Janeway put the crew to work, taking  
advantage of the time they had before they reached their  
destination.   
  
Helping out repairing fallen struts and clearing away debris, Tom  
Paris crawled into bed late that night. He was exhausted.   
Normally it would have been easy to fall asleep, but ever since  
he had returned earlier that day from the Array, he'd been  
thinking about the locket...and of course B'Elanna... He slept  
restlessly that night, and dreamed of being back on Palmat, of  
when they first met, and of their short time together before he   
had to leave.   
  
The next day when Voyager arrived at the planet, Tom accompanied  
the Captain, Chakotay, Tuvok, and a strange man that they had  
come across en route to the planet. His name was Neelix, from a  
race called Talaxians. He told them they might find their  
missing friends with a people called the Ocampa.  
  
At Neelix's suggestion they tried to barter water for information  
from a race called the Kazon-Ogla. With good timing and a lot   
of luck, they returned to Voyager, this time with a blonde pixy  
woman called Kes. From her, they had learned that Kes' people  
were Ocampa, and that they lived beneath the surface of the  
planet. It was there, Kes told them, that they might locate  
Harry and B'Elanna. Early tomorrow morning, they would transport  
down through a crack in the crust, and Kes would help them  
search.   
  
* * * * * *   
  
Later that evening...   
  
"Captain?"   
  
Janeway looked up to see Tom Paris standing in the doorway of the  
Ready Room.   
  
Taking a cautious sip from her coffee cup she motioned for him to  
come in.   
  
Seating himself across from the Captain, he ran his sweaty palms  
of his hands over his pant legs. He couldn't believe how on edge  
he was feeling.  
  
Janeway blew across the surface of the coffee, before she placed  
the cup on her desk. "When we put this behind us, I'll have to  
get someone up here to adjust the replicator. Every time I order  
coffee, it comes out as hot as a warp core." She raised her eyes  
to observe her guest. Janeway noted that the cocky young man  
she'd already grown accustomed to was looking very ill at ease.   
"What can I do for you, Mr. Paris?"  
  
Paris laughed nervously. "I know you are taking a landing party  
down to...um...inside the planet in the morning."  
  
"Yes, that's true."  
  
"Captain, I'd like to request permission to join the away team."   
  
"I've already selected the landing party. "Tuvok, Chakotay..."  
  
"And Neelix and Kes are going to accompany you. I know," Tom  
said interrupting her.  
  
"Well then, you know that I've already assigned a significant  
number of people for this mission."  
  
Tom nodded. "That's not the point, Captain." His voice had  
hardened. Janeway leaned forward in her seat. "I need to go. I  
need to help find Harry and B'Elanna."  
  
"I assure you that we'll have things under control," she assured  
him.  
  
"You don't understand, I have to go. It's for your benefit that  
I'm made part of this away mission."  
  
"I've already let you accompany me on the last two away missions,  
Mr. Paris. Technically, according to regulations, an individual,  
such as yourself..."  
  
"A convict."  
  
Janeway nodded.  
  
Tom looked away, exasperated, before he returned to focus on  
Janeway. "B'Elanna is my mate, Captain. I care about her more  
than you can imagine--more than even I would ever had thought  
possible. And Harry's my friend--my only friend. There is no  
one else you could take with you who would go to such extremes to  
find them, but me."  
  
"But--"  
  
"And," he continued, cutting her off, "I'm in the best physical  
condition in my life. I've spent a lot of time while I was in  
Auckland working out. You'd have to admit, even considering what  
Kes has been able to tell you, you don't know what conditions  
you'll encounter down there tomorrow." Tom leaned forward half-  
way out of his seat. "I'm begging you, Captain--and I don't mind  
telling you that I don't beg often. I'm begging you to let me  
go, Captain."  
  
Janeway picked up a spoon and lazily stirred her beverage,  
dispersing the steam. It wasn't often one of the crew begged  
her. And if someone had told her that Tom Paris would resort to  
begging when she first met him in Auckland, she certainly  
wouldn't have believed it. Gray eyes looked up through the  
rising steam and focused on the earnest blue eyes of Tom Paris.  
  
"Meet us in Transporter Room 2 at 0800."  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Entering the cabin that had been assigned to him, Tom dropped  
into the nearest chair and tried to rub the tiredness out of his  
face and eyes.   
  
"Computer begin recording." He cleared his throat.  
  
The computer beeped an acknowledgment.   
  
"It's been a long day...seems like it must have lasted more than  
twenty-four hours. Too many things have happened.   
  
"Here we are 70,000 light-years from home, in the Delta Quadrant.   
It seems so unreal. And then out of the blue, I find out that  
B'Elanna is here somewhere. It's so bizarre! If I didn't have  
her locket to prove it, I'd swear I was living some fantasy.   
  
"I can't wait to see her, but I don't know what Chakotay has said  
to her. What has he been telling B'Elanna about me? I can only  
hope that she remembers what we had together, and what we shared  
if but for a brief time. How I long to see her again, to touch  
her. I even miss hearing her bitch. She has no idea how sexy  
she is when she's mad. But I do. It's been so long since we've  
been together, a lot longer than I had ever intended. She'll  
never know how difficult it was for me to say goodbye on Palmat  
that day. I wanted to hold her in my arms and never let her go.   
If only I'd been able to leave her behind something more than  
that locket--it seems so inconsequential. I hope we can find  
her, and she's all right.   
  
"We also have to find Harry. Damn, I'd only known him a short  
while, but he seems like such a nice kid. Still green mind you,  
but you can tell he's the type of person that's honest to a  
fault. What the hell does he see in me? I gave him an out when  
I first came on board. He'd been talking to the doctor and the  
first officer. They'd been telling him about me, about my past,  
about Caldik Prime. I told him that he should listen to them,  
and what does he do? He tells me that he can pick his own  
friends. I hope he's okay.   
  
"B'Elanna and Harry, both missing--my mate and my only friend.   
Could my luck get any better? Probably not. Oh, well I suppose  
it could. If we can't get them back and Janeway can't find a  
way to get us back to the Alpha Quadrant, I could be stuck being  
an 'observer' for about seventy years! Or maybe she could put  
me to work with that holographic doctor? That would be a barrel  
of laughs! Mr. Personality to work with, a doctor who has no  
idea what the words "bedside manner" mean!   
  
"Tomorrow we'll be at the planet. I haven't prayed in a long  
time, but that's all I've been doing since I found that necklace.   
If someone's listening, and fate is on my side, maybe we'll find  
both B'Elanna and Harry."   
  
* * * * * *   
  
Tom, Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok, Neelix, and Kes beamed down  
through a tiny crack in the protective barrier. Janeway,  
Chakotay, and Tuvok consulted with the Ocampa leaders, about the  
Caretaker and trying to find out about the pulses of energy he  
was sending to the planet. Tom, Neelix, and Kes were given the  
task of trying to locate Harry and B'Elanna. All the while, they  
could hear and feel the pulses as they made contact with the  
planet. They could also tell that they were hitting at a faster  
tempo.  
  
Kes led Tom and Neelix to an secluded area of the city where a  
number of tunnels lined with staircases led to the surface. Only  
a few people knew about this, and Kes being that this was how she  
had reached the surface, was one of them.   
  
Tom, tricorder in hand, scanned the area, carefully aiming the  
device up each stairway. He'd almost given up when the tricorder  
began to beep.   
  
"They're up this one," he informed the others and tapped his comm  
badge. "Captain, we've determined their locations."  
  
::::Good work, Mr. Paris.::::  
  
"I'm sending you the coordinates."  
  
::::We'll meet you on the surface. Janeway out.::::  
  
Tom took the stairs two at a time, and Neelix and Kes followed on  
his heels trying to keep up with him.   
  
"B'Elanna!!! Harry!!!" Tom's voice echoed through the chamber,  
but it was greeted with silence.   
  
* * * * * * *  
  
"I imagine your husband is worried about both of you?" Harry  
asked. They had paused in their climb to the surface to catch  
their breath. Both were still feeling the effects from the  
illness. Sitting on the steps to rest, Harry had grown tired of  
the silence and tried to strike up a conversation.  
  
B'Elanna pursed her lips before responding. The steam fairly  
poured out her ears. "My *husband* doesn't know whether I'm dead  
or alive," she snapped. "He doesn't even known Im' pregnant!"  
  
"I--I'm sorry," Harry stammered. He immediately regretted his  
choice of topic.   
  
Steam having been vented, B'Elanna sighed. "Don't be. I'm the  
one who should be sorry. Sorry I ever got messed up with one Tom  
Paris."  
  
"Tom P--P--Paris?" Harry questioned.  
  
"Yeah. Why? do you know him?" She appraised him with a cold  
eye.  
  
Harry sputtered, unable to form a reply, so he opted for a shrug.   
He wasn't going to be the one to tell her Paris was on Voyager.   
She really might get angry.  
  
"Oh, come on, I would have thought everyone in Starfleet had  
heard of Tom Paris. The disgrace of the famous Paris family!   
  
Harry could see she was beginning to get angry again. "Perhaps,  
there was a good reason he didn't come back to you," he  
suggested.  
  
"Oh, *I* know what happened. They told me on the ship. Paris  
went out on a mission and left the Maquis, who he had promised to  
help, high and dry. He didn't even bother trying to look for me.   
He found a bunch of space bimbos, changed his name, and headed  
for parts unknown."  
  
"And you know they're telling you the truth?"  
  
B'Elanna nodded once. "They've been good to me--took me in when  
I had nowhere to go. Why would they lie to me?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I don't known, but I do know things aren't  
always as they seem."  
  
The half-Klingon sighed and pulled herself up to a standing  
position. "Enough talk, Starfleet. Let's get--"  
  
"HARRY!!! B'ELANNA!!!"  
  
B'Elanna stopped talking and breathing. It couldn't be. It  
sounded just like--  
  
"WE'RE HERE!!!" Harry called out. For safety, he retreated up  
the stairs a few steps. He could see that the Maquis woman was  
all but paralyzed, with one hand in a white-knuckle grip on the  
handrail and with the other hand rubbing circles on her abdomen.   
But he had also seen how irate she was earlier, so he wasn't  
about to get in between her and his friend.  
  
Hearing Harry's shout, Tom followed by Neelix and Kes, flew up  
the last few flights of stairs to their position.  
  
Turning on the landing below Harry and B'Elanna, Tom saw them.   
Harry, looking unsteady on his feet, clung to the handrail a few  
steps above B'Elanna. His mate stood still, only her hand  
against her stomach moved. Her dark eyes seemed to bore a hole  
through him. Tom didn't know exactly why, but something other  
than the situation they were in, was terribly wrong. She looked  
troubled.  
  
Paris moved cautiously closer to her until only a few steps  
separated the pair.  
  
"B'Elanna," he whispered huskily, and held out a hand to her.   
Unexpectedly, she took a step back, forcing Harry to move further  
up the stairs.  
  
"Don't you come near me," she warned him when she finally spoke.  
  
Tom couldn't believe his ears. "B'Elanna, what are you saying?"  
  
"I-I'm saying that I know about you. I know what you did--and  
didn't do."  
  
Neelix and Kes paused on the landing. When Kes tried to move  
forward, Neelix pulled her back. The pixy looked up quizzically  
at the Talaxian, who merely shook his head.  
  
This wasn't the same B'Elanna he'd left behind on Palmat.   
Something had changed, Tom thought. "B'Elanna, I told you all  
about my past--even about Caldik Prime. Don't even think I'm not  
glad to see you--I am. But why are you here? Why did you leave  
Palmat?"  
  
"I had no choice," she told him. "After the you left, the  
Cardies targeted Palmat. They thought it was a major refuge for  
the Maquis. They bombed us for weeks. So during one of the  
lulls, I split. I went looking for you and found the  
Liberty...only thing was, you weren't there!""  
  
"I didn't know about Palmat, B'Elanna. If I'd known..." {Even if  
I had known, what could I have done....nothing...not being in a  
Federation Penal Settlement.}  
  
"You'd have done what? Whisked into Palmat with your space girls  
and rescued me?" she sneered.  
  
::::Janeway to Paris::::  
  
The fire still present in B'Elanna's eyes. This wasn't going to  
be a subject she let drop...nor did he want her too. There was a  
lot to be said and a lot to straighten out. First priority  
though was to get out of here alive. When they were back on  
Voyager, then there would be time to talk.  
  
"Paris here, Captain."   
  
::::The blasts from the array have irradiated the planet's crust,  
making it impossible for Voyager to beam us out. We're heading  
to the tunnels. You are going to have to find a breach or create  
a breach in the security barrier when you get to the top. We  
should only be a few minutes behind you.::::  
  
"Understood, Captain, Paris out." Tom passed by B'Elanna and  
pulled Harry's arm over his shoulder for support, letting Neelix  
and Kes who had joined him help B'Elanna. "We'll have to talk  
this over later, we have to..." A blast rocked the tunnel,  
raining pieces of rock and debris down upon the four. "First we  
have to get the hell out of here."  
  
The quartet scrambled up the remaining flights of stairs, pausing  
only when one of the blasts struck again. Reaching the top they  
could see the sparkling evidence of a disintegrating type of  
force field. Kes stepped forward.   
  
"This is how I got out," she explained. There's a gap between  
the energy field and the tunnel wall." Kes moved toward the gap,  
and carefully slipped through, keeping her back to the tunnel  
wall. The light created by the force field illuminated her  
angelic face. "Come on," she urged. "It's the only way to the  
surface, but be careful. We've been told that the light will  
burn your skin off."  
  
"And a whole lot more," Tom murmured as he stepped closer, he  
could already feel the energy charge wash over his body. He  
could feel goosebumps forming on his flesh.   
  
Gingerly, the other three followed Kes, each easing through  
between the force field and the tunnel wall.   
  
On the other side of the barrier, they found that the tunnel  
ended, signifying they had reached their destination.  
  
Using their phasers, Tom and Neelix fired overhead. Rock and  
dirt showered down upon them, and then the welcomed sunlight  
poured through. Paris, being the tallest pulled himself up  
through the tunnel opening first. Then reaching down, one by  
one, he pulled up the rest. First Kes, Harry, and then B'Elanna  
and lastly Neelix. B'Elanna glared at Tom when he chose to help  
her by putting his arm around her waist, but she was too weak  
from the illness and the climb to the surface to argue, so she  
let him help her move away from the tunnel opening.  
  
The energy blasts that were being fired from the array at the  
planet to seal the energy conduits screamed over their heads  
before they impacted with the surface of the planet. Twice, they  
had to dive to the ground to avoid being hit. On the last hit,  
Tom turned to see dust and smoke billowing out of the hole that  
had recently crawled out of. He slapped his comm badge.  
  
"Paris to Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok! Can you hear me?"   
  
No answer.  
  
"I'm going back for them," he informed the rest. "Voyager, on my  
mark transport everyone in my group but me."  
  
B'Elanna gripped Neelix's shirt sleeve. "Go with him." she  
whispered huskily so only the Talaxian could hear. Neelix nodded  
and took a step toward the tall blue-eyed man. "You aren't going  
alone. You'll need help, I'm going with you."  
  
There was no time to argue. Paris removed the comm badge Tuvok  
had given Neelix earlier and clipped it to Harry's uniform shirt.  
"Voyager, make that three to beam up. Lock onto the other comm  
badge and transport."  
  
Neelix followed Tom to the opening and the pair crawled back  
down. Coughing from the dust, they walked back toward the  
flights of stairs. This time, they noticed that the protective  
barrier was wider than before, making it much easier to pass  
through.  
  
"Captain!" he called out.  
  
"We're here!" came the reply.  
  
Reaching the top landing, Tom and Neelix saw the Captain and an  
injured Tuvok on that same landing. Chakotay was about three  
meters below them on a section of steps that had separated from  
the rest of the flight of stairs and was in danger of crashing  
into the void below.  
  
"Neelix, please help me with Lt. Tuvok," Janeway asked. The  
chubby little man nodded and did as bade.  
  
"You'll have to help, Chakotay. Janeway told Paris.  
  
Tom nodded. "I'll get him, Captain. You get to the surface and  
help Neelix with Tuvok."  
  
Janeway hesitated.  
  
"I promise, I'll make sure he's all right."  
  
"Very well."  
  
Tom turned to his ex-captain. The anger and pain were reflected  
in the man's dark eyes. "Hold on, I'll get you out of here," Tom  
promised, stepping gingerly on one of the steps. It shifted  
under his weight and almost brought his side of the flight of  
stairs down.   
  
"Get out of here, Paris!" the Maquis snarled.  
  
  
"Not without you," Tom replied. He moved nearer Chakotay. With  
one hand he gripped the stair rail while he outstretched the  
other toward the older man.  
  
"I don't need any help from *you*. I'll get across myself."  
  
Tom could see he was badly hurt from the awkward position of his  
left leg. "And how do you think you are going to do that with a  
broken leg? Fly?"  
  
"I told you to get the hell out of here, Paris!"  
  
Tom reached toward Chakotay, thankful that he was tall enough to  
span the gap. "Think of it this way, chief. If you don't let me  
rescue you, who's going to be there to protect B'Elanna from a  
lecherous person like me?"  
  
"Have it your way, if I fall I can at least take you with me and  
spare B'Elanna any more pain!" Chakotay gripped Paris' arm with  
one hand and with the other he latched onto the tall man's  
shoulder. Just before the next blast hit, Tom pulled his ex-  
captain across the gap. Turning, he positioned Chakotay on his  
back and crawled back up the stairs so they could be beamed up to  
Voyager.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
The transporter beam deposited the two men in Sickbay. Paris  
tried not to jar the older man's leg as he helped him up on one  
of the biobeds.   
  
Turning and facing the EMH, Tom noticed that Harry and B'Elanna  
were already laying on two of the other beds. "Doc, I think  
Chakotay has a broken leg."  
  
The EMH turned from his task. "I'll be with him in a moment,  
first I have to attend to these two."  
  
"If you tell me where the osteo regenerator is I can take care of  
it for you. I've had a little medical training on the side {Pay  
attention to B'Elanna, Doc, I can handle this.}  
  
The doctor nodded. "Second drawer down to your left."  
  
"Easy there, Chakotay, I'll have you fixed up in a jiffy," Tom  
promised. Chakotay glared. Paris retrieved the osteo regenerator  
and turning it on, he expertly adjusted the frequency and began  
to wave it in a steady motion over the broken limb. Looking up  
from his task, he observed his mate. B'Elanna was laying quietly  
on the biobed, letting the doctor examine her, but her eyes were  
focused on him. From the clench of her jaw, Tom knew that she  
was still very angry.   
  
"I've given both you and Ensign Kim an antidote for the sickness  
you were inflicted with. You should know it would have taken any  
other doctor months to develop such a complex compound," the  
Doctor bragged to B'Elanna.   
  
"Well thank you. I am feeling much better."   
  
The EMH beamed with pride over his accomplishment.   
  
"You did good works, Doc," Tom offered, still maintaining a  
steady wave of the regenerator.   
  
"Thank you."  
  
"So when can I get out of here?" the half-Klingon snapped pushing  
herself up into a sitting position.   
  
"Yeah," Harry chimed in. "I'm feeling much better, I'd like to  
get out of here. I'm sure they can use me up on the bridge."  
  
"You can go," the doctor said to the young Asian. Harry grinned  
and jumped off the biobed, waving to Tom as he exited sickbay.   
B'Elanna moved to join him.  
  
"You," he pointed to the half-Klingon, "aren't going anywhere  
yet. There are still a few more scans I need to run. Just to be  
sure that everything is okay with you and your baby."  
  
The osteo regenerator dropped to the floor with a clang.   
  
"Baby?" Tom whispered, he moved closer to his mate.  
  
B'Elanna rolled her eyes to the overhead before she focused on  
the tall man. "Yeah, baby," B'Elanna concurred.  
  
"I had no idea, B'Elanna." Tom grinned. "Why didn't you tell me  
you were pregnant. It's...it's...wonderful!"  
  
"What makes you think that it's *your* baby, flyboy?!"   
  
Tom faced paled. He hadn't given it a thought that anyone else  
could be the father but him.  
  
"Someone else is the father?" he asked. "Who?"  
  
B'Elanna smiled, her gaze focused on Chakotay.   
  
"Are you saying that it's Chakotay?" he asked. Focused on  
B'Elanna he failed to see the look of surprise that washed over  
Chakotay's face.  
  
"I'm not saying anything, Tom," B'Elanna replied. "Or maybe I  
should call you Nick?"  
  
"Nick?"  
  
"Admit it, it's an alias you use," she accused.  
  
Tom laughed. B'Elanna looked shocked by the sound. The doctor  
not knowing what to say, was silent for a changel.  
  
"Nick?" he asked. "As in Nick Locarno?"  
  
B'Elanna nodded.  
  
"Actually it's Nicholas Paris Locarno. He's a cousin on my  
father's side... my Aunt Louise's son. Nick got one of Admiral  
Picard's favorites, Wesley Crusher, into trouble once when they  
were in the Academy together. No great loss though, with a name  
like Wesley, that kid was bound to get into trouble. Let me  
guess, Nick is running around the Alpha Quadrant with a woman on  
each arm, and a scheme around every corner."  
  
B'Elanna looked at her mate numbly.  
  
Tom stepped forward again. Either they were going to get this  
behind them, he thought, or she'd be in range to knock him into  
the next dimension. One way or another, something was going to  
happen before either one of them left this room.  
  
"B'Elanna, where do you think I've been the last few months?   
What have they told you?" He jerked his head in Chakotay's  
direction.  
  
"I just told her the truth, Paris."  
  
Tom faced the older man, his eyes were cold and he spoke with  
determination. "I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to my  
mate. If you have something to say to me, we can *discuss* it  
later."  
  
Chakotay chose to follow the Doctor's lead and remained quiet.  
  
Tom turned to look at B'Elanna again. "Tell me, B'Elanna. Where  
did you think I was?"  
  
  
"I--I don't know," she admitted. "I was told you had gone out  
looking for some help for the Maquis, but that you didn't come  
back. They looked for you but couldn't find you. The Maquis  
told me you left them. That you took the opportunity and  
abandoned them."  
  
"Yeah, I abandoned them all right. Doctor, can you access the  
ship's records and tell B'Elanna and the good captain, where I  
was before I came on board Voyager a few days ago?"  
  
"Certainly." The EMH nodded crisply and entered the required  
information into the ship's computer. "According to ship's  
records, it seems that Mr. Paris was serving time at the  
Federation Penal Settlement in Auckland, New Zealand after having  
been captured in the Selkan sector."  
  
"And the date of that capture?" Tom asked the Doctor, his eyes  
never leaving B'Elanna's face.  
  
The doctor queried the computer, and the computer replied with a  
date that coincided with the same date that Tom had left the  
Maquis ship.   
  
"You didn't leave them stranded?" B'Elanna asked.  
  
"No. In fact I was one that let the Selkan's know that the ship  
needed assistance." Tom turned back to Chakotay. "Didn't you  
ever question how the Selkan's arrived to help you so quickly?   
Did you really think that two Cardie ships would communicate  
between each other without scrambling the signal?"   
  
Chakotay shrugged.  
  
"You made it look like it was a Cardie transmission?" B'Elanna  
asked.  
  
Tom looked back at his mate and nodded. "The Bradbury had  
already contacted me. I didn't want them intercepting my message  
and finding the Liberty. So I made it look like it was a Cardie  
message that I sent to Selka. The Bradbury picked me up, I went  
to trial, and was sentenced to serve time in Auckland. Not a bad  
prison as prisons go, but I would have given anything to be with  
you, B'Elanna." He reached up with one hand and caressed her  
cheek. Instinctively, B'Elanna leaned into his touch.  
  
"I know what you mean. I--I--I missed you too," she admitted.   
His scent wafted toward her, it made her head spin. It was like  
they'd never been apart.  
  
"I'd like to go somewhere and talk when you're better, B'Elanna.   
Maybe we can work this out. If Chakotay really is the father,  
then it'll be hard, but I'll support..."  
  
B'Elanna placed two fingers over his mouth. "You talk too much."   
Blue eyes appraised her. "I--I'm not carrying Chakotay's child.   
I'm carrying your baby. Your baby girl, in fact."  
  
Blue eyes widened, and B'Elanna removed her fingers from his  
lips. "A girl? I'm...I'm..."  
  
"Going to be a father!" the EMH finished with a wide grin.   
"Congratulations."  
  
Tom's arms encircled his mate and drew her into a loving embrace  
forgetting that he had an audience. "B'Elanna he whispered. I  
think you've lost something."   
  
"Lost?"  
  
Reaching into pocket, he pulled out the silver locket. "I found  
this on the Caretaker's array. I thought you might want it  
back."   
  
B'Elanna smiled and let her mate slip her beloved locket over her  
head.  
  
"Looks like you're missing something as well," she remarked.  
  
Quizzically, Tom raised an eyebrow high enough to make a Vulcan  
proud. B'Elanna gripped him by his neck and pulled her mate down  
toward her. Quickly and decisively she bit him on the cheek.   
The action surprised both the doctor and Chakotay. But they  
were even more amazed when Tom returned the gesture.  
  
"I'll get the dermal regenerator and heal both of those up in a  
second," the EMH remarked.  
  
"Don't you dare," they snarled in unison.  
  
* * * * * *   
  
Tom sat in the dining area of the cabin, the lights over his bed  
were dim.  
  
"Computer, begin log," he began in a soft voice. "I just can't  
sleep, so much has changed in such a short period of time. Who'd  
have thought I'd find all I was ever looking for here in the  
Delta Quadrant? Certainly not me. I found my B'Elanna again and  
a good friend. Captain Janeway has given me a field  
commission...and to top all of that off, I'm going to be a dad.   
  
"Lieutenant Tom Paris sounds pretty good--Dad would be surprised-  
-but then again so am I. What's even better is that Janeway's  
also made me Voyager's Chief Pilot. I'll be flying one of  
Starfleet's most advanced starships. I've only sat at the helm  
for a short while, but she's a quick and nimble lady. I'm told  
that it is due to her bioneural circuitry. It's either that, or  
maybe I've fallen in love with the ship. I'm really looking  
forward to putting her through her paces.  
  
"Then there's Harry. He's one of those true blue friends you  
read about in stories. He's like Tonto is to the Lone Ranger.   
Damn, I don't feel like a Lone Ranger--at least not any more. Not  
since I have B'Elanna back. Maybe, Harry is more like Buster is  
to Captain Proton. Yeah, that's more like it...today I feel like  
some kinda hero.   
  
"Crawling up those stairs to the surface on the planet, I wasn't  
sure we'd make it. Every time one of those energy pulses hit the  
planet the stairway structure shook...it shook hard. But we made  
it, even if Chakotay fought me the entire way. I didn't know  
that man could swear so much! It might take a while for him and  
I to overcome our differences, but I hope he'll come to realize  
that despite everything I respect him. Not only as a leader, but  
for the fact that he took care of B'Elanna for me when I  
couldn't. Seeing as how Janeway has decided to integrate both  
crews on board Voyager, and since she made Chakotay her First  
Officer, it should at least make life interesting.  
  
"And last, but by no means least, there's B'Elanna."  
  
Tom paused in his recording and looked over to the bed. B'Elanna  
had fallen asleep in his arms hours ago. She now lay curled up  
with the bedclothes wrapped around her. He chuckled thinking of  
the hard time she'd give him when he came back to bed and tried  
to untangle her.  
  
"I still feel I should be pinching myself. I can hardly believe  
we're together again. It seems like ages ago I told B'Elanna to  
trust in fate--it looks like fate has played a part in my life  
again. This time for the better. Tomorrow, we're going to go  
see Captain Janeway and have her say our vows. Though we've  
already said them privately to ourselves, but we want to make it  
official. We decided on a small combination Klingon and Human  
ceremony, with just senior staff in attendance. Still don't know  
if Chakotay will attend, but if B'Elanna has anything to say he  
will.   
  
"B'Elanna and I won't be alone for long. In a few months--the  
Doctor isn't exactly sure how long due to the fact of the  
combination of Klingon and Human genes--our little girl will be  
born. I talked to my little princess today. Actually I think  
B'Elanna thought I was a little nuts holding a conversation with  
her belly, she hasn't even begun to show that much. But I told  
little Bella Anna--my pet name for her--that I would be the best  
of fathers. I told her that I was bound and determined to do one  
thing--spoil her rotten.   
  
"So much has changed. Looking back on what's happened the last  
twenty-four hours, I shudder to think what might have happened if  
I hadn't found the locket. Would I have been so driven to find  
B'Elanna and Harry? Would I have been so adamant about insisting  
to Janeway that I accompany her on that away mission? I don't  
know. But I do know this. This is where I belong. This is  
where I'm meant to be..."  
  
"Tom?"  
  
"Coming, love."  
  
"And right now I need to be with B'Elanna."  
  
"Computer, end log."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
End Chapter 6  
  
Click here to transport to the Epilogue 


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue...  
  
  
B'Elanna woke from her nap and stretched her arm above her head.   
She was back home in their quarters, with orders from the Doctor  
to take it easy. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the cabin  
and she spotted her husband seated in the rocking chair that the  
Engineering Department had given her for her baby shower. He was  
rocking their infant daughter and softly singing to her.   
Listening, she could hear the words.  
  
~~Are the stars out tonight?  
~~I don't know if it's cloudy or bright.  
~~And I only have eyes for you. **  
  
Must be one of those old songs that he favored, she thought.  
B'Elanna had to admit, she did like it. Nestling back against the  
pillows, she savored the moment, watching as Tom rocked his  
daughter. She was very lucky she realized, she had a husband who  
loved her and a beautiful baby girl. Of course, she did have to  
convince Tom that the child wasn't going to be named Belle Anna.   
Then like the devil he was, he tricked her into naming her  
K'Trina, a Klingon name. Not that she really minded, she  
reflected, it also sounded human.  
  
Life was very good, B'Elanna mused.  
  
Reaching to her throat she pulled her necklace out, and rubbed  
the smooth metal locket between her fingers. They certainly were  
going to have a lot to tell K'Trina when she grew up.   
  
  
  
The End.  
  
Email is desperately sought. I've worked on this story since  
early June 2000, so please let me know what you think. Comments,  
etc., can be sent to kelhapam@worldpath.net  
  
  
Credits; Footnotes follow:  
  
* Yes, I'm making this up. No comments from the peanut gallery.  
  
** Lyrics from the song" I Only Have Eyes for You, by Al Dubin  
and Harry Warren.  
  
*** "Brandy," sung by the group "Looking Glass," Words and Music  
by Elliot Lurie.   
  
  
  
Brandy (You're A Fine Girl)***  
  
  
There's a port on a western bay,  
And it serves a hundred ships a day,  
Lonely sailors pass the time away,  
And talk about their homes,  
  
And there's a girl in this harbor town  
And she works layin' whiskey down  
They say "Brandy, fetch another round"  
She serves them whiskey and wine  
  
(Chorus) The sailors say "Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a  
fine girl)  
"What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl)  
"Yeah your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea"  
Brandy wears a braided chain  
Made of finest silver from the North of Spain  
A locket that bears the name  
Of the man that Brandy loves  
  
He came on a summer's day  
Bringin' gifts from far away  
But he made it clear he couldn't stay  
No harbor was his home  
The sailor said " Brandy, you're a fine girl"   
"What a good wife you would be"   
"But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea"  
  
Yeah, Brandy used to watch his eyes  
When he told his sailor stories  
She could feel the ocean foam rise  
She saw its ragin' glory  
But he had always told the truth, lord, he was an honest man  
And Brandy does her best to understand  
  
At night when the bars close down  
Brandy walks through a silent town  
And loves a man who's not around  
She still can hear him say  
She hears him say " Brandy, you're a fine girl"   
"What a good wife you would be"   
"But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea"  
  
"Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl)  
  
  



End file.
